Elsanna One-Shot Collection
by RAReid
Summary: This will be a collection of one-shots based solely on reader prompts. Before suggesting anything, please be sure to read the introduction page (Chapter 1) to know how this whole system is going to operate. NO LONGER ACCEPTING PROMPTS.
1. Introduction

**A/N:** This was originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

* * *

Introduction

Alright, so I'm just finishing up the _Knock Knock_ series (When War Comes Knocking and When the Knocking Starts it Never Stops) and I know I want to continue writing Elsanna, but I didn't want to make it a big story deal – so I've decided to work solely off reader prompts. Down below is how all this will work, what is included in each one-shot and what I will not do.

Addressing the two most important things – I will _only_ write **unrelated** Elsanna and I _will not_ write smut. I have no problem with implied sexual content and the beginning of sexual content, but I will not write a full out sex scene. If that's what you're expecting, well, don't – I like writing stories, not pointless erotica.

If you are all good with that (or at least semi-okay with) then we're going to have a blast. Why? Because this is what is included in each one-shot:

-At least 13 pages (I have a habit of writing windfalls, so this is the _minimum_ for each 'chapter')

-A brief pre-history (so I don't have to waste time explaining shit when you just want to read the thing)

-(Optional:) A brief summary of what occurs after the end

-Elsanna

-_Your ideas_

I will write Elsanna in any situation you wish (if it's the most voted and I'm not extremely opposed to it because of disturbing content). If you want them as original superheroes (ex. Ice Maiden/Earth Force) or existing superheroes (ex. Ironman/Captain America) in that world, the real world or the Frozen world; or perhaps you want them in specific settings or jobs like cop, college, jail, criminal, gang, military, war-zone, assassin, cop/college, military/military prisoner, prison guard/inmate and so on, I will do it. If there are certain events in my _Knock Knock_ series that you wish happened differently I'll also do that – because I honestly think that it'd be cool to have some alternate possibilities within the story.

Now, how this whole system type thing works. At the end of each chapter (or introduction, in this case) you will put what you want to see next in the comments. If an existing comment catches your eye, _reply_ to it with; "Yes! This one!" or whatever. The idea with the most replies—which I let compile for a couple of days—will be the one that I select. If there are multiple highly voted, I will choose one and, at the end of the next chapter, I will have a list of popular ideas from the last comment compilation which you'll be free to vote on or continue with your own suggestions.

If there is an idea I select with a layout you are uninterested in reading that is perfectly fine – you don't have to read it, but you _do_ need to comment at the bottom of that chapter if you want a say in what the next one-shot is going to be.

If you want more of my writing or simply want to see how I write / operate, check out my _Knock Knock _series (which is much less grim than the tags and summaries let on).

At any rate, this is the end of my spiel. Please give suggests and vote in the comment section below, and I'll choose an idea in 3-4 days. After which, give me 3-7 days to write, edit and post the chapter.

Cheers!

* * *

**Edit:** This voting system I mentioned is based off the commenting system of Archive of Our Own. Here, since the comments are separate from the chapters, you can just post what you want without regard to "replies". However, I would prefer if you comment on the _most recently posted chapter_ so that I can keep the most recent prompts straight.


	2. Assassin Elsa and Target Anna

Assassin Elsa and Target Anna

Prompt Selected from Archive of Our Own.

**Pre-story:** Elsa was offered a contract on Anna's head, and she accepted and signed off on it. She spent a week gathering information and scoping Anna out from a distance (figuring out her habits, etc), after which she immediately started setting herself up for the kill. The first attempt—a sniper shot—failed because Hans walked in front of the bullet's path, and then things became too hectic to attempt loosing another. The second attempt—bombing Anna's CEO office—failed because Anna dashed out of the room at the last possible second, late for a board meeting. The third attempt—poison gas—failed because Kristoff stopped Anna from getting in her car after she opened the door by engaging in conversation—letting the car air out—and when she finally got in the car she rolled down the windows. Elsa is now on her fourth attempt.

Anna is the CEO of a manufacturing company that Weselton Incorporated has been trying to take over for several years. While Anna's company is relatively small, her business savvy nature has allowed the company to create a small fortune that is rapidly growing with each year. However, her tendency to always see the good in people has blinded her to the darker side – the side where Weselton Incorp. hires an assassin, Elsa, to off her.

* * *

Elsa scales the unlit side of Anna's upper class apartment building to the second floor, where she gingerly looks over the wall that encases the outdoor pool area. She spots several surveillance cameras, but no guards. Nimbly, she swings over the wall and crouches behind some of the shrubbery before quickly assessing herself to make sure she didn't lose anything on the way up.

She wears all black; cargo pants, soft-sole combats, long sleeve shirt, leather gloves, half face mask and hat. Strapped to her right thigh is a Sphinx SDP series pistol with a silencer, fastened in a little attachment on the holster. Strapped to her left thigh are a series of pouches that hold everything from lock picks to signal scramblers. Attached to her belt is an asp, on her right boot a hunting knife, and a machete on her lower back.

After surveying her equipment, Elsa pats down her pockets to assure all the card keys are still in place. Nodding softly, she opens one of the pouches on her left leg and pulls out a signal scrambler. She snarls at it as she adjusts the settings, arming it to effect the security cameras.

As good as Elsa is at infiltration, she absolutely loathes doing it. Mainly it's because it's a pain in the ass, but also because it confines her. That's not to say she isn't confined usually, because she typically is – but being in an enclosed space surrounded by potential enemies, well, it makes her claustrophobic.

In any other circumstance she wouldn't have minded as much, because she often finds herself breaking into buildings to either plant something or set up a snipe shot, but she never infiltrates with the intention of doing a close-quarters kill. It's not that she can't do it, it's just easier to be blissfully and completely detached if you never get that close. The only reason she's decided to do it now is because her target has the most frustratingly good luck Elsa has ever encountered. Not once, not twice, but _three times_ that stupid girl has evaded her death sentence, and Elsa will have no more of it.

Activating the scrambler, Elsa shoves it back in its pouch and bolts to the door to enter the building. Pulling a key card out of her pocket, she quickly swipes it and pushes open the door.

* * *

"Stop worrying so much, Kristoff." Anna says into her bluetooth as she fishes her key card out of her purse.

"_Anna, authorities recovered the remains of_ explosive devices _in your office. Why the hell would I _not_ worry?_" Kristoff asks, his apprehensive voice filtering into her ear. Anna frowns as she swipes her card and pushes into her apartment.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" She asks, kicking off her low-heel shoes to the corner of the entry way.

"_Yeah? How long do you think that's going to last?_"

Anna sighs. "Kristoff—"

"_Don't you 'Kristoff' me,_"—the man bites back—"_your office is nothing but a hole in the side of the building and, not only that – Hans is_ dead _because he happened to stand at the same moment someone tried to_ shoot you."

Anna frowns as she takes her phone out of her purse before throwing the bag on a nearby table.

"There's no proof to indicate that." She says, her throat tight as she remembers the spray of splintering glass five days ago and Hans crumbling like a sack of potatoes in front of her eyes seven days ago. "Authorities say it looks like an attack on the company, not—"

"_Anna, you_ are_ the company_." Kristoff says, his tone gentler than before. "_Please, all I ask is that you go to the police for help or hire some bodyguards until we're certain that this whole thing has blown over_." Anna sighs softly through her nose as she enters her bedroom and sets her phone on the nightstand.

"Maybe." She breathes. "I think about it, at any rate." She adds, before Kristoff can mount a rebuttal. There's silence on the line for a moment before she hears Kristoff heave a sigh.

"_Alright_." He relents. "_Just . . . just keep safe, okay?_" Anna twitches a small smile.

"I will. Thanks." She ends the call and pulls the bluetooth out of her ear, gently setting it by her phone as she lets out a shaky breath.

Unbeknownst to Kristoff, Anna has already been to the police station to ask for help. She explained that she's been having trouble focusing ever since the incident with Hans, which is why she forgot about the board meeting the day her office blew up, where she'd barely shut the door and taken a step before she found herself laying on the floor, her ears ringing and the taste of iron stinging her tongue. She tried to explain that she would have been taken out with it if she hadn't been so scatterbrained, but they said something about there only being one direct attempt on her life, therefore there wasn't enough evidence to confirm that she's in any further danger.

She was admitted to the hospital and kept there for the night under observation with a minor concussion, sprained muscles and open wounds after someone _blew up her office_ and those assholes had the nerve to say 'there isn't enough evidence'?

Anna had nearly punched the man in the throat.

She hadn't, though—thankfully—but now she finds herself flinching at loud noises and warily avoiding eerie or ominous looking places. Kristoff noticed, naturally, but Anna had been able to curb most of his worry, but it's hard to do when she fears someone is out for her head just as much as he does. That knowledge is too much for her to bare, however, so she makes the point of being optimistic while Kristoff takes the burden of coaxing her back to reality every now and again. It makes things easier.

Sighing, Anna unbuttons her blouse and skirt and chucks them into her hamper. She unhooks her bra as she walks to her dresser and tosses it somewhere as she grabs her pajamas and pulls them on. She frees her hair of her twin braids and walks back to her bed. She checks her phone one last time for any missed calls or messages before turning off the light and slipping under the covers, dreading another night of fitful sleep.

* * *

By the time Elsa had avoided the few stragglers in the halls and grabbed an empty elevator, she'd already been in the building for over seven minutes.

_Stupid people and their stupid nocturnal habits_. Elsa growls in her head.

Her inner voice rolls her eyes. _Riiight_,—the voice drawls—_because your schedule isn't just as fucked up as theirs are_.

Elsa doesn't grace the voice with a response.

Finally stepping out on the twenty-seventh level, Elsa ruffles through her pocket and pulls out another card, then opens one of her pouches and pulls out a decoder as she walks to her target's apartment. She attaches the card into the machine and takes a breath, staring at the little red light as she swipes the contraption in the card reader beside her target's room.

One second. Two seconds.

The card reader gives a tiny beep and Elsa immediately opens the door, entering as silently as she can. She takes the card out of the decoder and shoves them back into their places before pulling out her scrambler and shutting it off. Putting it back in its pouch and sealing it, she squints her eyes to adjust to the light as she pulls out her pistol and silencer and quietly screws it onto the barrel. Raising the gun, Elsa starts clearing the rooms. Her progress is slower than she would have liked, but she can barely see two meters in front of her.

_Jesus, the woman doesn't even leave her goddamn blinds open? They're lightweight blinds and still allow light to defuse through them but_ still,_ the nerve._

By this point Elsa isn't sure if she's berating her target or is simply thinking for the sake of making conversation with herself. Working alone for so long has had a bit of a strange effect on her.

Elsa makes it to the last room and gently pushes open the half closed door.

Her heart soars when she sees the sleeping lump underneath the covers.

_A nice peaceful death_. Elsa thinks, leveling her pistol until it's aimed at the girl's head on the pillow. A satisfied smile slides over her lips.

_Goodbye, Anna Arendelle_.

Anna's phone lights up on the nightstand and starts bellowing _It's Raining Men_. Anna groans and begins to stir.

No. No. _No_.

Elsa stands stock still as Anna rolls over and blindly pats the table for her phone. Gritting her teeth, Elsa re-aims and tightens her finger on the trigger—

"Hello?" Anna groans, her face still half buried in her pillows as she answers the call on speaker.

If it wasn't for the gravity of the situation, Elsa would have started screaming and cursing Anna's good luck to hell.

"_Well, don't you sound peachy_." Says a woman's voice from the phone's speakers. It's unnaturally loud for the quiet that once occupied the apartment. Anna groans irritably.

"What do you want, Rapunzel?"

"_Wow, you are in a really bad mood, aren't you?_" Anna lets out some sort of aggravated strangled sound. Getting the hint, the girl on the other end of the line says; "_Uhh, right. Okay. Sorry I called late – I was going to earlier but I got held up. Yeah. Anyway, I was just giving you a ring to see if you were still coming to the wedding rehearsal tomorrow?_" Anna finally turns her head to the phone and, with the faint light it gives off, Elsa can see a frown tugging at the girl's lips.

"Why wouldn't I?" She asks. There's silence for a moment.

"_Anna . . ._"—Rapunzel starts, sounding terribly hesitant—"_you've been through a lot in the past week and I wouldn't blame you if you needed space. Hell, I'd—_"

"It's fine, Rapunzel." Anna sighs, bringing up a hand to massage the bridge of her nose. "It's fine." She repeats, her voice weary for a reason other than being woken from slumber. There's another beat of silence.

"_Okay_." Rapunzel finally says. "_Then you need to know that we've changed the timing. It starts at—_"

"Wait." Anna groans, pushing herself up on an elbow. "Let me grab a pen." She starts patting the bedside table, steadily getting closer to the lamp that resides there.

_Don't you dare turn on that lamp. Don't you_ dare. _Don't you fucking—_

Anna turns on the lamp.

Elsa's eyes widen as Anna turns her head to open the drawer. There is nothing Elsa could do when Anna's eyes suddenly flick up to the entryway and land directly on her. Then her gun.

The girl screams.

Moving quickly, Elsa sprints to the bed and jumps on it, pinning Anna down between her thighs and clamping her free hand over the girl's mouth. Elsa plants the barrel of the gun hard into Anna's temple and the girl freezes, her breath coming in short, shallow breaths.

"_Anna?_" Rapunzel asks, panic flooding her voice. "_Anna are you alright?_"

Elsa leans down until her mouth is beside Anna's ear. "If you don't get her off the line without making her believe that everything's fine, then I'm not only going to kill you; I will kill her and her fiancée, then I'll kill your father and everyone else you hold dear before toping it off by desecrating your mother's grave. Do you understand?" The girl is trembling beneath her. Elsa leans back and sees the girl's eyes are wide with fear and that tears have started flowing from them in a steady stream. Narrowing her eyes, Elsa pushes the barrel in harder, trying to get the girl to focus. "Do you understand?" She hisses.

"_Anna, answer me!_" Rapunzel cries. She sounds close to hyperventilating. Gritting her teeth, Elsa removes her hand from Anna's mouth and jerks her head to the phone, urging the girl to speak. Anna sobs.

"I'm sorry, Rapunzel." Anna says, her voice cracking and fraying. "I turned on the light and I saw a shadow and, God, I've been so jumpy ever since Hans and the office, I—" Anna pauses, her eyes growing wide as she stares up at her assailant.

_No. _No_— this is _not_ a good time to realize I was responsible for those things._

Sneering, Elsa glowers at the girl and moves the silencer against her temple to remind Anna that it's still there. Anna swallows thickly.

"I'm a bit of a mess right now. Can you call me in the morning with the details or text them to me?" Anna asks, her voice quivering and sounding like it's going to give out at any second.

"_Do you want me to come over? I can be there in thirty if—_"

"No, but thank you." Anna says, the words strangling themselves through a sob. "I j-just need to be alone right now."

"_Anna—_"

"_Please_, Rapunzel. Please."

The silence drags on until, finally:

"_Okay._" Rapunzel says, softly. "_Just . . . just call me if you need anything, alright?_" As if realizing how close her demise is with the phone call ending, Anna starts sobbing uncontrollably.

Before this Rapunzel chick has a chance to say anything else, Elsa pushes the fingers of her free hand into the mask covering the lower half of her face, bites down and rips her hand free, quickly ending the call. She makes a mental note to wipe her fingerprint from the screen before she leaves.

"Right." Elsa grunts, grabbing the glove from her mouth. "If you start screaming or try to run away, I will kill everyone who is alerted by it and then kill everyone who passes me on the way out of the building. If you cooperate and let this transition smoothly, I will leave as silently as I came and no one will become collateral damage. Okay?" Elsa asks, trying to soften her sharp tone in an attempt to put the girl at ease.

The thing with distance kills is that the targets never know what hit them until after they're dead, and there's a certain type of peace to that that Elsa has come to enjoy. She just hopes she can coax this girl into some sort of peace before it's all over.

Only it's not working.

Anna's sobs start getting worse.

Growling in frustration, not wanting to be in this situation any longer than she has to, she grabs Anna's top by the scruff and starts hauling her out of bed. The girl resists, of course, but the officer worker has nothing against the trained killer and Elsa easily tosses her to the floor, close to the wall.

Even though it probably shouldn't be the first thing she notices, Elsa finds her eyes drawn to Anna's ice-blue pajamas, happy snowmen dancing all over them.

A lump lodges into Elsa's throat.

"Face the wall." Elsa grunts, pulling her glove back on and leveling her pistol.

"Why are you doing this?" Anna asks, her sobs now wrecking through her whole body. "What did I do? Please tell me what I did wrong; I don't understand!"

"Face the wall." Elsa demands, though there's a strangled quality to it that she wishes wasn't there.

"At least let me tell my dad that I love him!" Anna wails, a desperate waver in her voice that nearly breaks Elsa's heart in two. Elsa clenches her jaw tightly as she stares into Anna's pleading, watering eyes.

"God damn it." Elsa hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand for half a second before grabbing Anna's phone from the end table. She holds up the phone for Anna to see, never lowering the pistol. "You are allowed to text him _once_, and I have to read over it before you press send. Make it count." She lops the phone and Anna scrambles to catch it. The girl lets out a shaky breath and wipes at her eyes, attempting to clear her vision as she unlocks her phone and starts typing, her thumbs flying over the keypad. Elsa watches in mild fascination.

_Fuck, how long is she making that thing?_ Elsa thinks, her eyebrows furrowing as she watches the blur of Anna's thumbs working on the phone. This goes on for another couple seconds before the girl sniffles, wipes her eyes again and reads over the message. Once she's finished, she flips it around and holds it out. Elsa half lowers her gun, takes a step forward and lowers herself to a knee. She eyes Anna warily before turning her attention to the phone.

Hey dad, I know it's late but I haven't really been sleeping very  
well these past few days. Every time I close my eyes all I see is  
Hans crumbling in front of me or my arms covered in blood  
and dust. It keeps reminding me that I don't take nearly enough  
time to express how much I care about the people I hold dear,  
and I'm sorry for that. I just want you to know that I love you  
more than anything in this world, and that I'm sorry I didn't take  
nearly enough time out of my schedule to see you. I know I talk  
to you on the phone all the time, but it doesn't quite make up for  
the distance. I miss you. I'll try my best to see you soon, okay?  
I ove you.

_Well damn._ Elsa thinks, her throat clenching.

"You spelt love wrong." Elsa strains. Anna's eyebrows knit together and she turns the phone back around, her eyes scanning the message. Elsa shifts uncomfortably. "Second last word. You forgot the 'l'." Anna spies the mistake and quickly corrects it. She turns the phone back around. Elsa scans it quickly. She nods. "Go ahead." She whispers, leaning back and sitting on her heel. She watches as Anna eyes the screen intently, then lets out a shaky breath and holds the piece of technology to her chest. She locks eyes with Elsa.

"Thank you." She says, her bottom lip quivering and tears welling in her eyes again. Elsa shrugs uneasily.

"It was just a spelling error." Elsa says, awkwardly trying to deflect the sentiment. Anna barks a watery laugh.

Oh God, that laugh.

"Well, it would look kinda silly if a CEO spelt such a simple word wrong." Anna says, half-heartedly joking back.

_Jesus, my target just had to be the most adorable ball of goddamn sunshine, didn't she?_

Anna stares at Elsa oddly. Elsa's eyes widen. Did she say that out loud?

"What?" Anna asks.

Yes, yes she did.

"Nothing." Elsa says, but winces when she realizes it comes out as more of a question then a statement. Anna gives the older girl a tentative smile.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" She asks. Elsa's jaw drops, floored.

"W-what?" Elsa asks, her voice too much of a squeak for her own liking.

"Tea." Anna reiterates, shrugging. When the girl notices Elsa's face—a mix of shock and petrified, no doubt—Anna's tentative smile widens a little more, taking on a more reassuring edge. "It's mint. Helps calm down nerves." Elsa struggles with herself, her jaw muscles bulging. Tears misting in her eyes, Elsa brings the gun back up, aiming for the point between Anna's eyes. The girl's smile falls instantly. It hurts Elsa more than she's willing to admit.

"Please don't look at me." Elsa begs, her jaw clenching as she tries to keep her hands from shaking.

"I think I deserve to do whatever I want considering I'm about to die." Anna drawls. She doesn't cry. There's no tears. There's just a weary acceptance that this is how it's going to end. This is exactly what Elsa wished would happen, but now it just makes the girl look so . . . lifeless.

Steeling herself, Elsa tightens her finger on the trigger. Anna squeezes her eyes shut on reflex, her breath coming in shallow hisses.

Taking one last steadying breath, Elsa pulls the trigger.

Anna flinches as she hears the muffled _pfft_.

All the girl's muscles go rigid. Her breathing halts. Then, with a shuttering breath, she slumps.

Elsa watches the scene through a screen of salty water as she lets loose the first of many tears.

"I can't do it." Elsa chokes.

Anna finally looks up, her eyes flickering from the faded smoke wafting lazily off the gun to Elsa's face. She turns around and sees the bullet lodged in the wall, a soft spray of blood around it. Anna reaches up and gently touches her ear. She draws it away and stares at the faint speckling of blood that comes with it.

"I can't do it." Elsa repeats, sobbing. She lowers her gun and flumps backward, sitting on her rear. "God _damn it_." Elsa swears, covering her eyes with her free hand. "God damn it." She says again, softer – defeated. She doesn't even bother to stop Anna as the girl stands and leaves the room.

_This is why you do distance kills, dumbass_. Her inner voice scolds her. _If you weren't such a fucking moron, maybe you would have stuck to it._

She stays like this for what seems like forever until the faint smell of something sweet and minty reaches her nose. Rousing herself, Elsa wipes her eyes and pushes to her feet, letting her feet follow her nose. As she enters the kitchen, she sees the girl plopping a few squares of chocolate into two steaming mugs. She picks up the two objects and turns around, immediately jumping in surprise and almost spilling the contents of the mugs. Elsa smiles dimly, even though she's sure the action can't been seen from under her mask.

"Sorry, I should have announced myself." Elsa says softly. She sees the girl's eyes flick the gun.

Right. The gun.

"Sorry." Elsa mutters again, unscrewing the silencer and holstering both that and the pistol.

"That's fine." Anna says timidly, a noticeable trimmer in her voice as she steps towards the table and places the steamy mugs on a pair of coasters.

"What is it?" Elsa asks, her voice still in the same gentle tone as she nods to the mugs. Anna forces a nervous smile. Elsa notes that the girl's hands are shaking.

"Peppermint tea with mint chocolate." Her smile falters. "Unless you don't like chocolate? I'm sorry – I should have asked before I did it. I like it that way, see, so I just assumed— but I shouldn't have assumed. Sorry. I'll make you a new cup." As Anna reaches to grab one of the mugs, Elsa raises a hand to stop her.

"It's fine." Elsa allows. She walks to the table and gingerly slides one of the mugs and its coaster to the other side of the table, where she pulls out a chair and sits down. Anna stares at Elsa for a long couple seconds.

"You're . . . you're not going to try to kill me again, are you?" She asks. Elsa lets out a bitter laugh.

"Trust me, if I could kill you then you'd already be dead." She says, a sour note to her tone. The words don't seem to reassure the girl very much, but it still gives her enough courage to continue.

"Did you kill Hans?" She asks, sorrow plaguing her features. Elsa shrugs.

"I was aiming for you." Elsa states, not at all bothered by the death of the man she didn't know, just like she remains unbothered by all the other bodies she's left in her wake. Anna pales considerably.

"So . . . are you also responsible for bombing my office?" Anna asks. Elsa frowns. Doesn't the girl already know this?

_She's in shock, you stupid heartless bastard. Be a decent human being for once and—_

"I also put poison gas in your car, but you let it air out before you got in so it didn't harm you."

_—Or you could do that. Sure. Why not be more of a goddamn asshole and admit that you really would have killed all her friends and family if she hadn't of listened to your instructions? Jesus. You need help._

"You poisoned my car?" Anna asks, her face—if possible—goes even paler than before. Elsa shrugs.

"I emotionally survive my hits by not getting attached to them. That means not getting close enough to hear them interact with people, or hear their voice, or anything that lets me see them as human beings. Poison gas just happens to be one of those things that lets me keep that distance, so yeah – I used it." Elsa takes off one of her gloves and touches the side of her mug, testing the temperature. Anna frowns.

"Wait, if you like keeping your distance— oh wow." Anna says, her face flushing. Elsa, blissfully unaware of Anna's distraction as she settles her half face mask around her neck, shrugs uneasily.

"I normally get a target down on the first attempt, but since you eluded my attempts three times I figured I wasn't going to have much luck with distance and tried this. Guess that one didn't work out too well for me, huh?" Elsa asks, a dull humorous spark lighting in her eyes before she forcibly squashes it. She takes a tentative sip of the tea.

"You are beautiful." Anna breathes. Elsa chokes on the tea. Anna's eyes widen and she slaps her hands over her mouth. "Oh good God, did I say that out loud?" She asks. Elsa nods, still hacking and sputtering. Anna's eyes widen further. "I am _so_ sorry – I didn't mean to say that. That's not to say that I didn't mean it, because I did, I just didn't mean to— shit, are you okay? You've been choking for a while." Elsa would have laughed if she had the capability to breathe.

"Fine." Elsa wheezes, weathering one more coughing fit before gently rubbing her throat, a frown tugging at her lips.

"Are you okay?" Anna asks anxiously. Elsa gives her a look.

"Kind of an odd thing to ask someone who's been trying to kill you for a week, don't you think?" Before Anna can answer, Elsa's eyes flicker to the blood slowly trekking down the shell of Anna's ear. Elsa hums thoughtfully and stands up, gesturing to the seat opposite her. "Sit down." Elsa says, already making her way to the bathroom.

"Where're you going?" Anna calls after her, a hint of unease slipping into her voice.

"Getting medical supplies." Elsa calls back as she steps into the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet. She scans it before taking a couple Q-Tips, hydrogen peroxide, a cotton ball and a Band-Aid. When she returns to the kitchen, she's met with Anna sitting and nervously wringing her hands together on the table. Elsa sighs gently as she sets the supplies on the table. "I'm not going to hurt you." She huffs a humourless laugh. "Well, any more than I already have, at any rate." She unscrews the top to the hydrogen peroxide and pours a tiny amount into the cap.

"Why should I believe you?" Anna asks, warily eying Elsa as she works. Elsa sighs gently through her nose, picks up the cotton ball and starts lightly swiping Anna's ear, trying to remove most of the blood.

"Like I told you before, if I had the will to kill you I already would have done it." When Anna still looks skeptical, Elsa lets out a steadying breath. "In layman's terms, you got to me. This is highly fortunate for you, of course, but it puts me in quite a tough jam." Elsa sets down the cotton ball and picks up a Q-Tip, dips it in the peroxide and gently runs it over the cut on Anna ear. All things considered, the wound isn't really that bad.

"What do you mean?" Anna asks, a frown tugging at her lips. "Can't someone else just take up the job?" The girl doesn't seem to realise what she's saying until she says it, because she pauses for a second before turning unnaturally pale. "Oh God, there's going to be more, aren't there?" Elsa hums gently.

"Yes, but will they be hunting you, though? Not necessarily." Elsa says, dipping a second Q-Tip in the disinfectant. "See, the assassin business isn't as lawless as 'civilized' folk tend to believe. There is no bounty board that puts targets as far game to everyone. Well, there is – but that's the bounty hunter business, not the assassin business. See, assassins work loosely through agents, though they can't really be called as such – they're more of a middle man who filters requests and checks to see if jobs are legit or not before sending the assassin to meet the contractor. While this meeting is done in person, it's typically in poorly lit areas or something of the sort so no one can figure out the assassin's identity.

"Anyway, the point is that once you sign the contract, that target is yours and only yours until, a; you kill the target, b; you annul the contract, c; the contractor annuls the contract, d; you die, or e; the contractor and his or her associates die. That's not to say that another assassin couldn't come in and kill someone else's target anyway, but they'd have hell to pay from the other assassins and their allies and, trust me, you do _not_ want that. At any rate, what I'm saying is that while your contract is bound to me, no one else is allowed to harm you. The only question is if I want assassins coming after my head in an attempt to get your contract re-opened." Elsa's jaw clenches painfully as she throws the Q-Tip onto the table and grabs the Band-Aid, then proceeds to gently move Anna's hair out of the way so she put it on the girl's ear. "There. Good as new." Elsa whispers, leaving the bloody items where they are as she walks around the table and sits in her chair.

For a long couple of seconds, Anna doesn't say anything.

"So . . . what, exactly, are you trying to say?" Anna asks, her tone slow and measured. Elsa frowns, considering the question.

"I'm saying that while the concept of throwing your life on the line for someone else is terribly romantic and awe inspiring in your land of everyone-here-is-civilized, it's not exactly ideal in my land of everyone-here-has-been-trained-to-kill." Elsa says, avoiding directly answering the question. Anna's face falls slightly.

"You're going to annul the contract." She says. It's not a question, it's a statement. Elsa's shoulders tense and her eyebrows knit together uncomfortably.

"Not necessarily." Elsa says, slowly. "With the bad luck I've been having with you, I can safely surf another week as long as I pop my head around to grab supplies and ask around for new tactics I could off you with. After that week, though, people will know something's up. Hell, I'm kind of pushing it as it is, considering I'm known for being a one-hit wonder. I do promise to keep your contract for a week, nonetheless, but, after that, if you refuse to do something about this little problem of yours I will terminate the contract." Anna's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"I don't understand. What am I suppose to do about it?" She asks. Elsa eyes the girl warily, silently wondering if she has what it takes.

"You either have to personally order a hit on my contractors, or you're going to have to convince one of your friends to do it for you."

One second. Two seconds.

So much blood drains from Anna's face that Elsa is half worried the girl is about to pass out.

"What?" Anna asks. Elsa clears her throat, and tries to make her next words as gentle as possible.

"The only two solutions that you're left in the clear is if my contractors annul the deal—which is unlikely—or if they die. So you if allow them to live, you're pretty much signing your own death warrant." Elsa says.

"But, but I don't even know who they are!" Anna says, her breath turning shallow. "Even if I did want to— to do as you ask—which I don't—how am I—"

"I know who they are." Elsa interrupts. "And I am more than willing to give you their names if you want to do what needs to be done. Otherwise, well, I suggest you take a week off work and enjoy as much time with your loved ones as you can." Anna's eyes well with tears and she clenches her jaw. Her face contorts as she fights some internal battle.

"If I can convince one of my friends to do it—or not, and it's left up to me—how am I suppose to get in touch with one of these agents you speak of? I—" Anna lets her words fade away as a wide, reassuring smile spreads over Elsa's lips.

"I can give you phone numbers, details, inside information, what to expect, how much money you'll need, etc – basically I'll tell you everything you need to know, so don't worry about it." Elsa says. Anna frowns.

"Won't that get you in trouble?" She asks. Elsa barks a laugh.

"I'm not giving away their home addresses, for fuck's sake." Elsa says, mirth shining in her eyes. "Besides, as long as it keeps me safe and keeps your death off my conscious, I don't really care all that much." Off Anna's look, Elsa says; "I also just know what I can say and what I can't." Anna shakes her head gently.

"No, it's just . . . thank you. I don't know why you're doing this, but it's more than I could have ever asked for and . . . thank you." At a loss for words, the young CEO flashes Elsa the brightest smile she as ever seen, with just enough of a watery edge to stab the assassin right in the heart strings.

"Yeah." Elsa breaths, a lump lodging in her throat. Suddenly the tea she has left mostly untouched becomes unbelievably appealing and she takes a sip of it. It's lukewarm, but the smooth taste of mint chocolate and peppermint still blissfully overpower her senses.

_How did I _not_ know if this concoction?_ Elsa thinks, staring into her cup with an acute sense of wonder.

"Do you like it?" Anna asks, dragging Elsa from her thoughts. She looks up to see the girl giving her a shy smile. Elsa smiles back.

"It's lovely, thank you." She says. Anna beams.

"I'm glad, because it's honestly one of my favourite things to drink. Well, other than chocolate milk, I suppose, but this is a very close second." Anna says, nodding sharply to punctuate her words. It's so ridiculous that Elsa almost cracks a laugh. Instead, however, she just gives the girl a broad smile.

"I don't blame you – chocolate milk is pretty fantastic." She says, sincerely. Anna blinks and tilts her head, giving Elsa a curious look. When this continues for a couple of awkwardly long seconds, Elsa knits her eyebrows together, wondering if she said something wrong.

"You seem so . . . normal." Anna breathes. Elsa's smile falters. Anna panics. "I'm not saying that you're not! Well, technically you kinda aren't, considering your job is to kill people but— oh God, that came out wrong. What I'm trying to say is that I never expected that the person hunting me down would be so charming. Not that your attempts on my life where charming, because they definitely weren't, but you . . ."—Anna falters, her nose scrunching as she tries to think of the right words—"you're just so . . . likeable." Elsa, for the second time that night, is completely floored.

"Some people would beg to differ." Elsa chokes, pushing through her mental brain fart.

"'Some people' doesn't include me." Anna says, smiling as Elsa's eyes flick away from hers. She examines the older girl's face for what seems like an eternity until, finally, she says; "After we get this mess out of the way, would it be okay if we meet up every now and then? You know, like friends, or colleagues, or, you know, whatever we are."

_No. That is a horrid idea and completely jeopardizes—_

"I wouldn't be opposed to the idea." Elsa says, twitching a small smile.

_Do you even listen to me anymore? God, it's like your common sense got trampled by this girl's happy rays of sunshine and rainbows._ Elsa makes to retort to her inner voice, but is stopped cold by the sight of Anna beaming at her, a grin plastered on her lips.

_Yup. Totally worth my common sense getting blown to smithereens._ Elsa thinks, smiling back at the girl and taking another sip of her chocolate peppermint tea.

Elsa knows she could never really get used to any part of the world that Anna lives, but she gets the feeling that she might just be able to find comfort in it.

* * *

**A/N: **Please give suggestions and vote in the comment section for the next one-shot. I'll choose an idea in 3-4 days, after which give me 3-7 days to write, edit and post the chapter.

Please note: I _only_ take suggestions from the most recent chapter to give the board a clean slate. So if you suggested an idea last time, it's no longer valid unless you suggest it again. A bit of a pain, yes, but fair.


	3. Queen Elsa and Plebeian Anna

Queen Elsa and Plebeian Anna

Prompt Selected from Archive of Our Own.

**Pre-story:** Elsa, an only child, has been queen for just over a year. She's finding, however, that her years locked away in the castle has left her oblivious to her people's needs. With the population's wariness of her because of the Great Freeze—in which case she barely pulled herself together enough free the kingdom of the icy clutch—Elsa decides to disguise herself so she can safely mingle with the population.

Anna, the rebellious blacksmith's daughter, has been fighting to protect her friends and family for as long as she can remember. She was scolded for it many times, but with her muscles from working the forged, she found no reason not to put them to good use. Four years ago she was noticed by one of the more shady residents of Arendelle, and they offered to train her to fight professionally. Although she didn't quite like the not-so-noble intentions behind the offer, she accepted to at least become a better defender to the people she cares about. She's been professionally street fighting ever since.

Elsa and Anna have only met a sparse number of times before: once as a child when the king brought Elsa to the forge while Anna was working, then never again until this past year, where the two often see each other in passing while Anna makes weapon deliveries to the castle. Despite this, the two are still very memorable in each other's mind, they just never felt like they had the permission to address each other.

* * *

A light frown tugs on Elsa's lips as she walks through the streets.

While it seemed like a good idea to go into the populous in men's clothes and her hair tucked into a hat so no one would recognise her when she was in the castle, it wasn't actually a good idea in practice. The main reason is because there are people. Lots of people.

Elsa clears her throat gently before any nervousness can settle on her vocal cords and continues squeezing her way through the crowd.

She has no idea how the hell she thought this would work.

Her planning was all good and dandy while she was in the castle – all she had to do was disguise herself and talk to the population. Simple. Then she realized, with her history, that it wouldn't be simple to become social in a day and decided that she should probably just stick to observing. For some odd reason, though, she never calculated using all her energy not to hyperventilate instead. It's weird that she didn't, considering her track record, but she didn't nonetheless and now she's left merely trying not to look like a fucking crazy as she tries to find somewhere that doesn't have people.

It takes a while, but she eventually exits onto a main road. It's still has an overwhelming amount of people—all entering and exiting the main square—but there's thankfully less than what she had just endured. Visibly trembling, Elsa leans against the side of the nearest building and tries to steady her ragged breathing.

"You didn't think about just sending for people to come to the castle, did you? Nooo, because that would be too simple. Why would you want to be in the environment that you're comfortable with when you could do something crazy and terrifying and outright ludicrous? I need to meet people in their own environment, I said; I need to see them as they normally interact, I said. God, why am I so stupid as to listen to myself?" Elsa hisses and pinches the bridge of her nose.

She really should have tried getting used to being around people, first.

* * *

Anna, a satchel slung over her shoulder, exits her house. She laughs when her father gives her a disgruntled stare.

"Geez, dad – you should really be used to this by now." Anna teases, a grin spreading over her lips. Her father grumbles something and turns back to the anvil, continuing to hammer the red-hot sword he's currently working on. Anna rolls her eyes. "I made sure that this is just a training week so that I'll be able to fill my end of the order like I always do, so don't worry." Her father sighs and dunks the sword into the barrel of water. It hisses angrily.

"I don't care about the order – I want you to be safe." He says, pulling the sword back out and examining it. Nodding in approval, he sets the blade down and turns to Anna, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "You can't stay at the top forever." He says. Anna's humour is replaced with something more thoughtful, and she hums – gently agreeing.

"I can't drop out while at the top without reason, either; it'd bring that trouble to our doorstep, and I'd very much like to avoid that." Anna says. She stays thoughtful for a moment longer before sending her father an apologetic smile and shrugging meekly. "At least I get to beat up snobby assholes?" Her father snorts, mirth exploding in his eyes as he shoves the blade back into the forge.

"Get out 'a here, kid." Her father says, unvoiced laughter sparkling in his tone. Anna's smile broadens and she kisses him on the cheek.

"Later, dad." She says, turning heel and skipping out into the milling crowd of people.

Most of the population knows her—either as a blacksmith, a fighter, or both—so most of the folk she squeezes by greet her warmly or give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Having the inviting personality that she does—if not a bit eccentric and a scatterbrained—she responds to all with a wide grin, a few words or a friendly clap on the back. Even with this, Anna never slows her progress and easily makes it to the main road in record time. She pauses to pull a pair of rolled hand wraps out of her bag and starts wrapping one around her left hand as she continues walking.

When her eye lands on a man leaning against a wall pinching his nose, a slight trimmer to his hand, Anna slows and raises an eyebrow.

The man, with most of his platinum hair tucked into his hat, wears an off-white tunic, white gloves, royal blue breeches and well made black leather boots that go halfway up his calves.

_His family is of some sort of prestige, but not as high as a noble. Maybe the son of a duke._ Anna thinks, noting the man's posture and etiquette even as he tries to calm himself down from . . . something. Anna frowns at that thought. She finishes tying the wrap on her hand and walks up to him.

"Hey there."

The man starts and snaps as straight as a board, a little 'eep' escaping his lips. Anna's eyes widen in alarm and she raises her hands in a pacifying motion, her right still holding the other hand wrap.

"Whoa, I didn't mean to scare you." Anna says, trying to seem as inviting as she can. The man still stares at her with wide eyes and his shoulders up to his ears. Anna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes and gestures to herself. "I'm Anna; I came over to see if you were okay." In a split second—whether it was her words or her tone—the man visibly relaxes and a tired smile spreads over his lips.

"Your the black smith's daughter." He says, a note of affection in his more feminine edged voice. He bows politely at the shoulders. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Anna smiles.

"As flattered as I am, a moment ago you looked like you were expecting someone to suddenly jump up and start bashing your head in with a rock." Anna says, starting to wrap up her other hand. "So do you need help, or . . .?" She asks, raising an eyebrow in question. The man opens his mouth and, for a moment, Anna believes he's going to completely shrug off her concern, when he pauses. He stares at Anna for a couple seconds, an unreadable expression masking his face.

"I'm not particularly fond of crowds." He admits, a frown tugging at his lips as he eyes the crowd uneasily. Anna tilts her head curiously.

"Kind of a strange thing to be afraid of, isn't it?" She asks. The man's sharp gaze snaps back to Anna.

"I'm not _fond_ of crowds." The man bites, each word measured and almost painfully over pronounced. Still, it succeeds in halting Anna's actions; a shiver of warning tickling down her spine. Anna discretely swallows and ties off her hand wrap, then stretches and flexes her hand to make sure it's not too tight.

"Well, uh, you still might be shit out of luck either way." Anna says, laughing weakly. She glances to the crowd. "Because whether you like it or not that square is going to remain that full until the sun starts going down, so unless you don't have to go through it to get home . . ." Anna shrugs, not bothering to finish her thought. The man visibly pales. Clearing his throat uneasily, he offers Anna a weak smile.

"Guess I'm going to have fun, then." He strains, his eye twitching in what Anna assumes is a suppressed wince. He turns to Anna, reserved hope flickering in his eyes. "You wouldn't happen to want to help me, would you?" He asks. Anna smile apologetically and jerks her thumb in the opposite direction.

"I would if I could, but I have training right now and I can't drop it. Sorry." She says. A frown tugs at the man's lips.

"Training? For what? The smithy's that way."

Oh. So he doesn't know.

Probably best if it stays that way.

Anna smiles and waves the man off. "Long story. I'd love to get into it, but if I don't leave right now I'm going to be late." Anna turns and starts jogging down the road. Over her shoulder she calls; "It was nice meeting you!"

* * *

Elsa stares, dumbfounded, as the girl who's been the object of her curiosity for almost a year runs away from her. She absently raises her hand in a tiny wave, even though she knows Anna's back can't see it.

"Nice meeting you, too." Elsa whispers.

_So that's what she's like, huh?_ Elsa thinks, a small smile twitching onto her lips. She contemplates it for all of two seconds until a loud noise from the square startles her back to reality. She glances to the milling crowd and lets out a shaky, steadying breath.

"One more time. Just one more time." She murmurs, turning to the square. Pulling herself to her full height, she walks forward.

By some stroke of luck, she's able to get through the crowd and starts walking back towards the bridge walk-way leading to the castle without breaking down. She just gets close to it when two men—who reeked of fish and ale—squashes her between them. She's able to push through it, but only because she needles one of their feet with ice so they stumble and give her a chance to escape, which she readily takes.

All and all, it wasn't a bad first trip.

"Kai!" Elsa calls as she finally walks through the doors to the castle, opened by the royal guards. She pulls off her hat and heads towards the stairs. She should probably look in a mirror to see if her braid is still intact and her hair presentable, but right now she's still a little too shaken to give a shit.

Kai appears as Elsa reaches the top of the stairs. He bows at the shoulders.

"You called, your majesty?"

Elsa nods and waves for him to follow her as she heads down the hall. "Is Kristoff going to town today, do you know?" Kai nods.

"Yes, your majesty – he's already preparing to leave." He says. Elsa freezes.

"Right now?"

Kai frowns. "Yes, your majesty." Elsa turns heel and starts sprinting back towards the stairs.

"If anyone asks, I'm still not available for the rest of the day!" Elsa calls over her shoulder. She uses her ice to slide down the stairs, nearly barreling into Gerta at the bottom. "Sorry!" Elsa puffs, already dashing down another hallway.

A couple minutes later, Elsa bursts through the stable door—startling a few horses and a groom—and looks around frantically. Her eyes settle on Kristoff's back just as he's about to kick his horse into motion.

"Kristoff, wait!" Elsa shouts, jogging towards him. She stops a groom along the way, ordering him to saddle her horse, before continuing her way to the young man. For his part, Kristoff just half turns his horse and raises an eyebrow at the disheveled queen. A smirk tugs at his lips as he eyes her attire.

"Wow, you are one sexy man."

"It's a new fad." Elsa says, stopping beside the man's horse. Kristoff's eyes light up.

"Really?" He breathes, excitement dancing over her face. Elsa gives him a odd look.

"Seriously, Kristoff? No – it's not a fad." At his heartbroken expression, Elsa rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Look, I have the rest of the day off and I'm not spending it here. So I want to go with you, have some fun and get some people advice." Kristoff's eyebrows lift.

"You want people advice from a man who works with horses and reindeer for a living?" His blurts, voice just a tad too loud.

"Shh!" Elsa hisses, just as the stable boy comes over with her horse. "Thank you." She says, taking the reins and turning back to the head groom. "What do you say?" Kristoff stares at her for a long couple seconds before a slow smile spreads across his lips.

"I say you put that hat back on, because you won't want people knowing who you are."

His tone makes Elsa's jaw drop. Kristoff laughs. Elsa narrows her eyes.

Elsa doesn't know what the head groom is planning, but she knows it's something she's probably not going to like.

* * *

Several hours later.

Anna shoves the rolled hand wraps into her satchel, wincing as her knuckles catch on the bag. She rubs her hand, a small frown tugging at her lips as she continues her trek back to the smithy.

The training intensity has been upped since she isn't taking any bouts this week. She wouldn't have minded so much if her trainers had worked more on conditioning then they did on moves, counters and dummy work, but as it stands, they decided to make her sprint for her money. Again, she wouldn't have minded if _they didn't know she has a smithy order to fill_. It's too late to do anything about it now, though, so she has to deal with having to take it easy and forge at a more leisurely pace than she normally does.

That thought makes her wince.

_The order is already ridiculous, but now I'm going to be up halfway through the night trying to make up for the work I should have finished today._

Sighing, Anna nimbly scoots through the crowd—doing her best to go unnoticed—and steps into the smithy. Her dad glances up from his anvil. She smiles at him as she throws her satchel on a nearby bench.

"Hello again." Anna says, humour lacing her tone as she walks to over to her forging outfit. Her hand is halfway to the thick leather attire when her father's voice stops her.

"I need you to bring a delivery of swords over to the inn." He grunts, pounding his hammer on an axe she can tell he's only recently started working on. Anna frowns, her hand falling to her side.

"I'm already going to have to stay up through the night working on my portion of the order; I don't have the time to make a run." She says, her eyebrows furrowing. "Why can't you do it?" She asks, gesturing to the forge. "It looks like you're ahead of schedule, so I don't see why you can't—"

"I'm picking up some of your work." Her father says, not even turning to her as he dunks the axe into the barrel of water, the hot metal hissing as a cloud of steam bellows up around his arm.

"What?" Anna asks, alarmed. "No." She states, her mouth setting into a hard line. "I said I would complete my end of the order and I meant it. I—" Her father turns to her with a loving smile, but Anna can still see the hint of grief that lingers in it.

"I know, Anna – I know. I just don't want you over working yourself; it's not good for you." He says. Anna's frown deepens.

"It's not good for you, either." She retorts. Her father smile becomes weary.

"This is only physical demand my life has; one I have become very used to. You, on the other hand, have two very different physical priorities – both as demanding as the other and forcing you to try to do the full amount of work for both with half the amount of time. So I am more than willing to help you if it means preventing you from working to death." He says. Tears mist in Anna's eyes and, without any regard to the soot on her father's forging gear, wraps him in a crushing hug.

"I love you, dad." She murmurs into his shoulder. Her father chuckles and wraps his arms around her gently.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He says. Patting the girl's back, his pulls away with a broad, proud smile and gestures to three sheathed swords in the corner. "You should probably get moving."

It isn't long before Anna has the two smaller swords strapped to her waist, the two handed broadsword strapped to back and is trekking purposely towards the inn. She waves and grins to all who greet her, but otherwise tries not to encourage any prolonged interaction that will make her rushed timings any worse than they already are.

She reaches the inn in no time and easily finds the soldiers the delivery is meant for. She hands over the weapons and stays there as the soldiers unsheathe them and examine the blades. When they accept the quality they hand over the other half of the coin they still owe. Anna accepts it with a smile and leaves, heading back the way she came.

It really shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise, however, when she witnesses some rough-housing in a nearby alleyway.

_Why does it always happen to be when I'm busy that I stumble upon this shit?_ Anna thinks, sighing gently. Of course she knows that she can't let this injustice go unpunished—her morals were too developed for that—but that doesn't mean she can't be a little upset by the inconvenience. Shaking her head gently, Anna takes a confident step into the alley.

"It's a fine day today, isn't it?" Anna asks, a broad smile plastered on her lips. The two assailants pause and turn to her. One obviously recognises her—if the instant fear is anything to go by—while the other simply takes her in with a cool, calculating eye.

"Hello." The man—obviously the leader of the two—says, looking completely unfazed by the situation. "How are you?" He asks. Anna raises an eyebrow.

"Odd thing to ask." Anna says, slowly. The man shrugs.

"Not particularly." He glances at the man keeled over and spitting up blood beside him and amends; "Well, perhaps a little strange." A frown tugs at the corners of Anna's lips.

"What's going on here, exactly?" Anna asks. She typically doesn't waste time with questions, but she typically doesn't deal with people who don't instantly want to rip her throat out.

_I just had to get the cool collected guy that I can chat out of violence the one day I have an abnormal amount of work to do._ Anna thinks, groaning internally. An odd smile twitches onto the man's lips.

"Exactly what it looks like, I presume." He says, humour lilting his words. It's more unnerving than Anna likes to admit.

"Okay, well I don't like it." Anna says, speaking frankly. "So we can either handle this little problem with a good 'ol fashion fist fight, or you can walk away so I can get this man some medical attention." The leader's smile widens. It makes the hairs on the back of Anna's neck stand on end.

"How about a mix of both?" He proposes. He gestures to the beaten man. "How about I leave and let you take this man and reconvene at the arena in twenty minutes?" Anna's eyes narrow.

"I'm not doing any official or unofficial bouts until next week, so how about you organize a bout with my manager? You can even make sure it's on a day that I have multiple fights so you can go last and have more of a chance of winning." Anna says, a slight taunting edge to her words.

To be honest, Anna has absolutely no issue with going to the ring now and pulverizing this man, but she does have an issue with breaking her word with her father. Thus, her purpose is to either threaten this man into submission or goading him into a fight to settle this now. She doesn't really care either way just as long as she gets this issue out of the way and can go back to the smithy. The man hums.

"Too bad – I hear the arena is pretty abandoned right now." He says. A shiver runs down Anna's spine.

"That makes it more dangerous." She snaps, covering her unease.

"Anna!" A familiar, slurred voice calls from behind her. Frowning, she glances back just long enough to see who addressed her before turning back to the leader.

"This isn't a good time, Kristoff." Anna says. He ignores her and slings an arm over her shoulders. She scowls.

"It's always a good time!" Kristoff snickers, his head lolling forwards and resting on Anna's shoulder. Anna's nose curls.

"Have you been drinking?" She asks. Kristoff chortles, but otherwise gives her no response. Anna growls with frustration. Of course she has to deal with this today, too.

"Sorry." Another voice says, before staggering up to Anna's other side and into her vision. "He drank a lot and isn't exactly thinking properly." The man giggles in a manner very unbefitting of a man and leans against the wall of the alleyway. "Then again, I'm not one to speak." He says, grinning from ear to ear.

"You?" Anna asks, surprised. "What? Why?"

Why would an awkward upper-class be drinking with a man who works and sleeps in a stable—the royal stables, admittedly, but a stable nonetheless—and literally smells like manure? The man grins and leans forward.

"It makes me less awkward with people." The man stage whispers, before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Anna's eyebrows set into an unamused line, silently disagreeing with the statement.

"That's great. Can you please take Kristoff and go?" She grinds. The drunken upper-class man blinks.

"Why?" He asks, honestly confused.

_Did you really drink that much or are you seriously this stupid?_ Anna thinks, clenching her teeth.

"Please look further into this alleyway and tell me what you see." She grits.

The man blinks again and does what she asks.

"Oh!" He exclaims, pushing from the wall. "That man is injured." He declares, and starts stumbling towards him. Anna's eyes almost bulge out of her head.

"What? No! Come back here! Damn it, Kristoff, get off of me!"

With Kristoff clutching to Anna and leaning on her like dead weight, she is helpless to do anything but watch as the refined man kneels beside the one spitting out blood. With some sense of relief, Anna notes that the assailants are just as surprised as her at the oblivious idiot's actions and are too shocked to react.

_Small miracles_. Anna thinks, letting out a slow, calming breath – not daring to move in fear it will break the assailants from their stupor; because she really doesn't want to have to drop Kristoff in order to save this moron.

"Are you okay?" The upper-class man asks, bracing a hand against the cobblestone to keep from swaying. The injured man frowns and gives the other a strange look.

"Who are you?" He asks.

Still kneeling, the upper-class man straightens and slams his hand so hard against his chest that Anna physically winces at the sound.

"I, my good sir, am the queen!"

One second. Two seconds.

Anna slaps her free hand over her face and the two assailants start laughing uncontrollably. For his part, the 'queen' manages to look genuinely insulted by the reaction.

"How dare you laugh at your ruler!" He barks, pushing to his feet . . . only to fall back to the ground. The roaring laughter only grows louder. Anna groans and lowers her hand.

"Can we settle this in the arena next week so I can deal with these two?" She asks. The only answer she gets are the two men hollering hysterically and keeling, holding themselves with their hands on their knees.

Surprisingly, the upper-class man still looks unbelievably offended.

Before this can get any more out of hand, Anna leans Kristoff against the wall and walks up to the two men on the cobblestone. She glances to the injured one.

"Can you walk?" She asks. He nods.

_Good, because I'm going to have my hands full dragging these two drunken morons halfway across town._

It takes a painful amount of time, but thankfully the assailants are still otherwise too occupied with their aching ribs to halt the pathetic retreat. Anna is able to pawn the injured man off on another citizen, and she continues on – awkwardly dragging the other two stumbling drunkards back to her house.

In some measure of mercy, her father notices her approach and drops everything to come help.

"What happened?" He asks, effortlessly lifting up Kristoff and walking back towards the house. Anna sighs, following her dad's example and lifting the slim man remaining in her care up into her arms. He giggles gently and rests his head on Anna's shoulder. Anna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.

"I was dealing with some trouble in an alleyway when Kristoff and this idiot stumbled up to me. I was able to remove us from the situation without any trouble, but only because this moron was so drunk he started declaring that he was the queen." Anna says, grunting as she pushes into the house after her father. She follows her father into the living room and gently lays the tiny thing in her arms onto the couch. Her father barks a laugh as he lays Kristoff down on the fur rug in front of the unlit fireplace.

"Seriously?" He asks, mirth swimming in his eyes as he goes into another room to grab some blankets. Anna grunts in affirmation as she unties the young man's boots and pulls them off.

"He got really insulted when no one believed him, too." Anna says, moving to Kristoff to remove his boots as her father re-enters the room with two blankets, already preparing to lay one on the passed out man on the couch.

"I wonder if he has the same long flowing locks as her majesty?" He teases, barely suppressing laughter. Anna barks a laugh as she puts Kristoff's boot aside and turns to her father, arm already outreaching for the other blanket to put on top of the stable boy. Her action halts, however, when she notices her still, shocked father as he stares down at the upper-class lad's face, the boy's hat in his hand. Anna frowns and pushes to her feet. She takes the few steps that close the distance between them and glances down, trying to understand her father's hesitation.

Anna's breath catches in her throat.

"What a second." Anna chokes, trying to push past her shock as she stares at the platinum braid and wind-blown bangs, the queen's signature hair style. "Does this . . . does that mean— is this _actually_ the queen?" Anna asks, her mouth practically flapping like a fish as she stares at the woman's sleeping face.

_That would certainly explain all the not-so-manly behaviour quirks._

"It would seem that way, yes." He says, a frown etching its way onto his lips. He glances over to Anna. "Should we inform the castle? It looks like she's going to be out for a while." Anna lightly chews on her bottom lip.

"We should, but I want to make sure we have an idea of her condition beforehand, so we know what kind of urgency to deliver." Anna says, carefully eying the young royal's face. "She _looks_ okay, but—" The queen suddenly jerks awake and rolls to the side, hovering over the edge of the couch as her back arches and she retches. Anna and her father jump back. Elsa whimpers quietly and gently clutches the side of her head as she settles uneasily at the edge of the cushions, keeping her head slightly dangling off the side.

Thankfully her father has more common sense than to just gape in horror, and mutters something about a bucket and a towel before exiting the room. Anna, however, continues to stare with her jaw unhinged.

_The queen just puked on my floor. _Queen Elsa_ just _puked_ on my floor!_ Anna thinks, her nose curling as the smell finally reaches her. It's not bad, per se, but it absolutely reeks of alcohol. She turns her head away, and her eyes fall on Kristoff. A frown tugs at the edge of her lips. _How did you manage to convince Elsa to do something so utterly moronic?_ She wonders, almost wanting to wake the man so she can scream at him about how irresponsible he is.

The queen whimpers again, followed by the distinct sound of vomiting. Only this time, instead of hearing it hit the floor, she hears it hit something with more of a hollow sound. Anna turns, and grins at the sight of her father frantically leaning over the puke on the floor, bucket in hand, just barely saving the floor from more of the alcoholic stomach mess. Anna barks a laugh—despite the smell—and grabs the towel from her father's shoulder and lays it on the mess on the floor.

"So, should we feel honoured that our floor has been blessed, or something?" Anna asks. Her father gives her an unamused stare. Anna laughs. Elsa groans at the noise and tries to raise her head, but her already unstable senses make her lurch and she barely keeps herself from puking again. Moaning gently, Elsa wraps a comforting arm around her head. Anna frowns at the sight. Her father sighs gently through his nose.

"I'll run to the castle and inform Kai. You stay here and clean up both her and the mess, okay?" He asks, turning to Anna for confirmation. She nods.

"Of course, but be sure to tell him that she's in no condition to move unless they want to carry her, and I don't think they'd what a public drunken spectacle of the queen." Ann says, a frown tugging at her lips. She glances to her father. "Probably wouldn't be a good idea to have royal guards standing watch by the shop either, it'd draw too much attention. I think it best you request the castle to not send anyone for her until nightfall at the very earliest – at least then she's be able to walk by then. With both me and you here to protect and defend it should be an agreeable arrangement, don't you think?" Her father hums and nods absently, setting down the puke bucket and pushing to his feet.

"We'll find out." His deep voice rumbles as he heads out of the room. "I'll be back soon. Take care of her." Anna smiles.

"Always."

In all of Anna's fantasies about her and the queen, this is definitely not one of the scenarios she envisioned. Still, though, Anna cleans the floor, empties and cleans the bucket, helps Elsa rinse out her mouth, drink some water and cleans the royal's face without complaint. When she's done, she flunks onto the floor in front of the couch and leans against it.

"Thanks." A soft voice murmurs from behind her. Anna smiles softly and turns.

"Don't worry about it, your majesty." Anna whispers, gently sweeping some of the queen's bangs out of her eyes. "How are you feeling?" She asks. The queen's laden eyes flutter open just enough to meet Anna's.

"Better." Elsa says, twitching a small smile. She winces slightly and pulls her blanket up around her chin, only her nose and eyes being shown with the cocoon she's created for herself. Anna's heart flutters in her chest and a blush dusts her cheeks.

_How— how is the queen so adorable?_

Shaking her head gently and swallowing thickly, Anna pushes to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Elsa murmurs, unable to keep her eyes open despite her effort to. Anna kneels back down and gently tucks in the blanket around the queen, smiling kindly.

"You need to sleep, your majesty."—Anna whispers—"But I'll be back to check on you every now and then, okay?" She asks. Her only answer is the queen relaxing and giving a barely-there nod. Still, though – Anna watches until the royal's breathing turns slow and even, her face smoothing as she drifts off to sleep in her fluffy shelter. The sight reminds her vaguely of a little puppy snuggled in a bundle of fur, and warmth spreads through Anna's chest at the sight.

Standing abruptly, the blacksmith turns heel and quickly scurries to the front door, her goal on the forge.

Hitting things always takes her mind off things.

* * *

It wasn't the most pleasant sensation of waking up. Her head feels like it was run over by a carriage; the newly lit fire in the hearth hurts her eyes and the rhythmic slam of metal on metal just outside does nothing to ease her throbbing headache.

Groaning, Elsa tries to bury herself further into her blankets. Someone taps her shoulder.

"Court is adjourned for the day. Go home." Elsa grumbles, desperately trying not to focus on how much every part of her hurt. She hears the person shift awkwardly.

"I have water for you. It'll make you feel better."

Elsa instantly recognises the gruff voice and pulls the blanket down around her neck, her mouth set in a tight line as she glares at the idiot responsible for her misery. Kristoff, a glass of water in his hand, shifts uncomfortably.

"You have no idea how lucky you are that I don't have the strength or the focus right now to freeze you." Elsa grits, her eyes hard. Kristoff waves her off uneasily and hands her the glass.

"I'll listen to your threats once your back in your normal state of mind." The groom says. Elsa notes that the man can't quite meet her eyes, and that satisfies her enough to untangle an arm from the blanket and take the glass. The queen downs the liquid in seconds. Kristoff takes the empty glass and sets it on the floor. Elsa throws her free arm over her eyes.

"Where are our horses?" She asks, her throat raw and sore. She clears it gently. Kristoff sits back on his heels.

"Still at the stables by the pub, I presume." He says, shrugging. Elsa nods and tries to sit up. A wave of nausea hits her, however, and she gingerly lies herself back down with a hiss. Kristoff twitches an apologetic smile. "Yeah, you won't be in any condition to ride for at least another day." Elsa groans irritably.

"How long have I been out?" She asks, squeezing her eyes shut in some attempt to make her stomach to stop swirling.

"Couple of hours, I think." Kristoff says. "I just got up a little while ago myself, honestly. It was long enough to catch my bearings and grab some water, but not long enough to figure out much more than that." He seems to register the hammering in the background and Elsa's contorted face at the sound, because he adds; "We're at the smithy. I remember enough to know that Anna brought us back to her place."

"Anna?" Elsa asks, her eyebrows twisting in confusion. Then, a light bulb going off in her head, Elsa's eyes snap open and she looks to Kristoff in shock. "Anna?" She asks again, this time with alarm in her tone. Kristoff's eyes widen in surprise.

"Y-yes. Do you . . . do you know her?" He asks, tentatively. Elsa closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Not personally." She admits. "I've just seen her around the castle every now and then when she's making a delivery from the forge. I— I don't actually know all that much about her. I wish I did, though." Elsa sighs and opens her eyes just in time to see Kristoff's eyebrows raise. Elsa smirks. "It's not all that uncommon to want to get to know someone, you know." Kristoff nods, immediately agreeing.

"I never said otherwise it's just, well . . . Anna's not the type of person who I assumed would catch your attention. It's not that she's not interesting, because she is, she just has no manners. Well, that's not true – she has some etiquette, just no desire to actually use it." Kristoff says, shifting uneasily with his verbal spew. Elsa raises an eyebrow.

"You know her quite well then, I assume?" She asks, her interest peaked. Kristoff nods, an apprehensive frown tracing his lips. Elsa props herself up on her pillow. "What can you tell me about her?" She asks. Kristoff clears his throat awkwardly.

"Well, she's nice, protective, hyperactive, awkward and uh she's . . . she's—" his eyes flick to the doorway and his eyes light up. "Anna!" He practically cheers. Elsa winces and gently rubs her temples.

"Please keep your voice down." Elsa grumbles, the resultant throbbing behind her eyes at the noise forcing her to close her eyes.

"Oh!" Comes a startled voice from the doorway. She hears footsteps approach the couch and the rustle of fabric as they kneel down. "Oh wow, you don't look very good." The gentle voice says. Then, with a hint of panic, continues with; "not that you look bad – because you don't; in fact you're beautiful. W-wait, what? Did I say that?"—She chuckles nervously—"Sorry. I meant to say that you look like you're in pain." Elsa opens her eyes to see Anna, covered in soot and smelling like coals, wringing her hands together nervously. Elsa smiles kindly.

"I am feeling rather drained." Elsa allows, her voice soft. The pounding in her head doesn't really allow for much else. Anna chuckles.

"Considering how much alcohol you threw up, I not really surprised." She says. Elsa gives her a look of horror.

"I threw u— oh no; I am _so_ sorry, I'll have you compensated for—" Anna's laugh cuts her off.

"It's fine – it really wasn't that much of a hassle. Surprising? Very, but a hassle? No. I don't think you could be if you wanted to, honestly." Anna says. Elsa gives the girl a look.

"Considering I froze over the kingdom, I think I can." She says, a frown tugging at her lips. Anna leans forward and rests a hand on the edge of the couch.

"You also unfroze the kingdom." The girl reminds her. Elsa gives her a pained smile.

"Barely."

"But you did." Anna insists. Elsa isn't comforted by this and it must show on her face, because Anna leans forward and gently squeezes her shoulder. "It's not really about what mistakes you make, it's about how you recover and what you do about it." She smiles kindly. "I've made more than my fair share of mistakes, but I've learned that every single one of them—no matter how embarrassing—was completely worth it, because I grew and became a better person because of it. One mistake doesn't define you unless you let it."

Elsa stares at Anna, her mouth working soundlessly.

Kristoff clears his throat and stands, turning to Anna.

Wow, he was still there?

"I think I'll go outside and see how you're dad's doing." He says. Elsa stops him.

"Actually,"—she says—"I think it'd be best if you grab our horses from the stable so we can head back to the castle." Kristoff frowns.

"Didn't we go over this? If you think I'm letting you get anywhere near a horse in your condition, you've got another thing coming."

"Do you think I'll do any better walking?" Elsa bites back. Kristoff pauses.

"Uh, no. Not really."

Elsa nods. "Exactly." She says.

"Some royal guards are coming to escort you back come nightfall." Anna intercedes, trying to calm the situation. "That'll be in less than a half an hour, and it probably wouldn't be a good idea to leave before they got here." Elsa blinks in surprise, but otherwise remains composed as she says:

"Guards or not, I'm not walking when my skull is pounding and I refuse to be carried." Elsa turns her attention back to Kristoff. "Get the horses." She turns back to Anna and, once she hears the door shut behind the man, shrugs. "Between us, it'll probably take me an hour just to get steady enough being vertical not to hurl, but that lout doesn't need to know that." _Even though he's already pretty much guessed as much._ She thinks. Anna laughs. It's a light, melodic sound.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need, your majesty."

The sudden use of formality jars Elsa, and she frowns.

"Don't." Elsa says. Anna's smile falters.

"Don't what?" She asks, a hint of trepidation in her voice.

"Use formal addresses." Elsa replies, her lips tensing into a tight line.

"But—"

"You weren't using them before and I rather you stick with that." Elsa raises her hand when Anna makes to argue. "Reminding me that I'm the queen when I'm hung over and feel like shit is not positive reinforcement, and I would prefer if you didn't make my conscious weigh any heavier than it already is." Anna stares at Elsa for a long beat, considering. After a moment, she nods. Elsa releases the breath she wasn't aware she was holding. "Thank you." Elsa breathes. Anna twitches a small smile.

"Anything for you, your ma—" Anna catches herself and, before Elsa can give her a look for the slip, blurts; "Your magically amazing person. Ness. Who's a commoner. And completely normal." Anna's face contorts at her awkwardness. Elsa cracks a smile.

"Good enough." She allows. When Anna gives her a look akin to disbelief, Elsa's smile widens to something more reassuring. "You're a welcome relief from the proper drabble I'm forced to deal with at the castle, so relax." Anna snorts a laugh.

"I don't think 'awkward peasant woman' really counts as a relief." She says. It's meant as a joke, but Elsa's face clouds over—if only for an instant—before she hums thoughtfully.

"You'd be surprised." Elsa murmurs. An uncomfortable silence stretches for a long couple of seconds before the queen pulls herself back to the present. "So what do you do?" She asks. Anna blinks, unsure if she heard the question right. Elsa raises an eyebrow when the girl continues to stare at her with a blank expression.

Seeming to realize that the queen is still waiting for a response, Anna clears her throat.

"Sorry – what?" She asks. Elsa bites her tongue to keep from laughing.

"What do you do?" Elsa reiterates. Anna frowns, her eyes flickering up in thought.

"Well, I forge things." She laughs awkwardly. "But you knew that already, sooo . . ." She rubs the back of her neck. "I hang out with people and fool around when I have time, but most of my spare time away from the smithy is taken up by—" Anna falters and gives Elsa a look that the queen can only describe as wary. This peaks Elsa's interest, but her need not to push this girl away suppresses the urge to pry.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to – I was merely curious." Elsa says with a light shrug. Silently she wonders if it has anything to do with the 'training' Anna had mentioned when they met earlier in the day, but she doesn't ask. Anna shifts uneasily, her frown deepening.

"It's not that I don't want to it's just . . . not something I think you'd approve of." She says, slowly. Elsa, latching onto the chance to fulfil her curiosity, twitches a lopsided smile.

"I can assure you that whatever you're doing can't be any worse than some of the things I have to deal with in court. Why?"—She continues, before Anna can pose the question herself—"Because what makes something bad is the intent someone uses, and I get the feeling that you could never do anything terrible with the intention of uncalled-for malice." The look Anna gives her in unreadable, and it slightly unnerves the queen – not that she'd ever show it.

"Okay." Anna says, slowly – calculating. After a beat of consideration, she says; "I'll tell you, but you have to promise to let me explain before you jump in, okay?" Elsa gives the girl a curious look, but nods nonetheless. When the queen says nothing else, Anna lets out a slow breath and runs her hand through her bangs. "Right."—She says—"As a kid I always used to get into fights to protect my friends. With my blacksmith muscles I tended to go unrivaled, but I did lose every now and then. It was never by much and they never got out of it looking any better than me, but the fact remains.

"The point is that I got noticed by someone, and they gave me an offer to train me properly in hand-to-hand combat—both the clean moves and the dirty—and in return I would fight for him in a shady sand ring called the arena. It was my opportunity to receive the skills I needed to better protect the people I cared about, so I accepted. This was, oh, three or four years ago now, I think? Doesn't really matter, though – what matters is that I was trained as a professional street fighter and I've been doing it ever since. Ah! Don't interrupt." Anna says, cutting herself off. Elsa's mouth snaps shut with an auditable _click_. Anna nods her thanks.

"As I was saying; this 'arena' is where all the bad beef between friends, family, houses, nobles and enemies get worked out, or it's simply used way of expelling aggression. I know this isn't the best way of dealing with these things, but I prefer that their violent intentions to be under the surveillance of the ring than to be done as a knife in the back in an alleyway. Either way, the business of the arena—and, as a result, the business resolved there—is kept on the down-low because we don't want the wrong person hearing about it and want to shut it down. Not that I don't disagree with that intention, it's just that I've been in that circle long enough to know what would happen if it were to be shut down without an alternative method set in place." Anna finishes, shrugging faintly. Elsa stares at her for a long, searching beat before:

"How do the fights work?" Elsa asks. Anna tries to seek explanation for the curiosity, but Elsa knows her queenly mask is too firmly in place for the girl to find anything. A frown tugs at the girl's lips.

"You have people like me—who are fixed champions you can buy if you don't have your own—family champions, hired champions, untrained champions—if you can't afford a fighter or want to duke it out yourself—and squabblers, who are generally a waste of time—because they have absolutely no skills—but we don't deny them. Typically only people in the same category can fight each other but there are exceptions made when skill levels are equivalent, which is regularly seen between the fixed, family and hired champions. Family and hired champions are preferred over fixed champions, but that's because fixed fighters who have been around for a while can only be matched by other fixed fighters or warriors who are highly skilled, and, as such, are really expensive.

"As for the fighting itself, the only thing that's off bounds is permanently maiming the other person unless there has been a clause contract that's been signed by both fighting parties. Other than that, the fight goes on until someone yields, passes out, is knocked out, purposefully goes out of bounds or breaks the rules." Anna says. She pauses, trying to think of anything she might have missed, before nodding to herself. "That's about it." She concludes. Elsa nods slowly.

"Do you like doing this?" She asks. Unease makes Anna's frown deepen.

"Fighting? I don't think anyone really likes it. The discipline of it and the training aspect are nice, but I could do without the pointless violence. Some of it is unavoidable, I admit, but a lot of it is, and I wish those people would take a more peaceful route." Anna says.

"Hm." Elsa hums, rubbing her mouth gently. She came into town to find out about the population and what they needed, and this certainly seems to be an issue that she should look into. Anna shifts anxiously.

"Please tell me what you're thinking." Anna says, her voice timid.

"Do you want to create a better solution?" Elsa asks, avoiding directly answering the question. Anna's eyebrows furrow and her frown tugs ever deeper.

"I— yes, I suppose. I mean, if the right alternative was created I'd be more than happy to accept it, but—"

"I want you to come to the castle at least three times a week to meet with me, then." Elsa interrupts, making up her mind. Breaking her queenly domineer, she sends the girl a friendly smile. In response to the shock on the girl's face, Elsa explains; "I came into town to try to get a better grasp as to what the population is like and what it needs of me, and this sounds like something I should deal with. You come into play because you know the streets and opinions far better than I do; so while I can enforce a change, I wouldn't exactly know what to enforce without your input." At the look the girl gives her, Elsa continues with; "or not. You could still come to me with other issues though, if you like – you seem like you know a lot about what's going on."

"No, sorry – I'm just, wow; I'm surprised you'd ask, is all." Anna says, disbelief and half-hidden delight bubbling up to the surface. "Are you sure you want me, though?" She asks. Elsa smiles.

"I'd love to have you." She confirms, omitting the fact that she's been wanting to spend time with the blacksmith ever since she first saw her making a delivery to the castle almost a year ago. Anna beams.

"Then it's settled!" She says, then falters. "But I have intense training this week on top of a huge order I have to fill, so I won't have any available time until next week, and even then I won't have a fixed schedule." Elsa waves off the girl's concern.

"Set times are for people who know you'd never otherwise give the time of day." She jibes. Anna laughs. Elsa sobers. "But seriously, you don't have to come on days that you're busy, and I'll accept an audience with you right up until sunset. Hell, if you arrive at sunset I'll even set you up with a room for the night and supply you with everything you'll need."

"Whoa— seriously? You— wow. That's . . . that's very generous of you. Are you sure? Because that's a pretty big offer." Anna says, practically bouncing with equal amounts of worry and excitement. Elsa laughs.

"You're one person and you're pleasant company – I wouldn't mind you staying a night or two."

_Or a couple dozen._ Her thoughts add.

The smile Anna gives her is so radiant that it nearly blinds the queen.

"Thank you; I'll definitely take you up on that."

_Score!_

Despite her inner excitement, Elsa merely smiles politely.

"I'm glad,"—she says—"it'll be nice to have you livening the place up." Anna's grin grows until it's almost splitting her face.

They fall into comfortable silence. Well, comfortable to Elsa, at any rate – she's not quite sure how the blacksmith is taking it, or if she notices it at all. The said girl has a delighted, distant look on her face and doesn't look like she's aware of her surroundings at all. Elsa doesn't mind – in fact she uses the breather to assess how stable she is and the likelihood of her head surviving a horse ride back to the castle. She feels fine laying down, but her body protests violently the moment she tries sitting up. Hissing, Elsa slowly eases herself back down.

"Are you okay?" Anna's worried voice asks, snapping the queen from her thoughts. Elsa tries to smile, but she knows it probably comes out as something more of a grimace.

"Considering my body and brain are only useful to me so long as I don't move, I'll have to say no." Elsa drawls, gently rubbing her temples. After a beat, she sighs softly. "I don't think I can ride for at least a couple more hours, and even then it's going to take a miracle." She pauses. "And a lot of water." She adds. Anna chuckles softly as she stands.

"I'll grab you some bread, too – it'll do you a world of good." She says, already on her way to the kitchen.

"I hope so." Elsa murmurs, letting her eyes flutter shut.

* * *

Anna, just finishing pouring a glass of water, wraps a slice of bread in a cloth and renters the living room.

"Here we go, bread and water – the cure to—" Anna lets her words putter out as her eyes land on the queen's relaxed face, closed eyes and even breath. A small smile twitches at the corners of Anna's lips at the sight. She steps forward and sets the water and wrapped bread on the floor beside the couch. She stands—planning to get back to helping her father at the forge—when her eyes land once again on the young monarch's face.

_She's giving you the chance to make a difference, a _real _difference – the one you've been wanting make ever since you got wrapped up in this shit._ Affectionate tears well in Anna's eyes at the thought.

Elsa, the one she's been admiring for beauty for the Gods who knows how long, has completely blown her away with her show of kindness and generosity.

_Gods, Elsa – you're better than I could have ever imagined._

Anna's eyes continue to linger on the queen's sleeping features until her last thought, and the emotions that came with it, hit her head on. Flushing, Anna turns heel and heads for the entryway.

She may have gotten an audience and an invitation from the queen, but that doesn't mean it will ever lead to anything more.

* * *

**Epilogue:** Over the course of a couple months, Anna helps Elsa better understand the population and fix multiple problems that they had been facing, including the street-fighting ring. Within this time, Elsa comes to rely on Anna as her connection to the people and what her kingdom wants from her. The news that Anna is personally consulting the queen on such matters spreads quickly, making her both more loved and something of a target. She has to fight her way out of multiple attempts of her life and, in the end, Elsa assigns guards to both her and her father, and eventually convinces them both to temporarily stay at the castle when it only gets worse.

Anna's father returns home permanently—not just going there for work with Anna every day—after living with Elsa for three weeks. Anna was going to go with him, but Elsa insisted otherwise and, unable to say no to the one her heart secretly belongs to, agrees.

Almost half a year since the day they finally made each other's acquaintance, and two months since Anna permanently started living in the castle, both girls finally confess their feelings for each other. Four months later—under some pressure from the council to bare an heir—Elsa asks Anna to marry her—to which she says 'yes'—and purposefully leaves out the 'male companion' clause in the marriage contract, just to spite them. To mend this flaw, Anna somehow convinces her father to remarry and have children. His firstborn is named heir to the throne.

Elsa and Anna marry a year after they were first engaged, and they both take their differing roles in running the kingdom – Elsa in the tactical, and Anna in practical and public relations. They still get their far share of problems—both in relation to the kingdom and from Anna's old life—but they somehow always seem to weather the storm and make it through.

* * *

**A/N:** I calculate prompts from both Archive of Our Own and FFnet. Only prompts on the most recent chapters are considered.

Please give suggestions and vote in the comment section for the next one-shot. I'll choose an idea in 3-4 days, after which give me 3-7 days to write, edit and post the chapter.


	4. Arms Dealer Elsa and Slave Anna, Part 1

Arms Dealer Elsa and Slave Anna, Part 1

Prompt Selected from Archive of Our Own (On June 11).  
The Next Prompt will be Selected on June 21 or 22.

**Pre-story:**

Elsa is one of the most successful arms dealers in the region, dealing to small groups and large gangs alike from Corona all the way to Arendelle, including all the kingdoms and small towns in-between. Her particular personal 'business' has venues dotted throughout the land, and many people—merchants and sell-swords alike—pledge themselves to her service for the guaranteed coin she draws in. They know, however, that to cross her means unwavering torture and death, possibly by the Snow Queen's hand herself.

For common affairs that need looking after on a daily basis closer to home, Elsa had bought a small handful of slaves. She instilled fear in them, warning them of the consequences of crossing her, yet promising them food, a warm bed and protection so long as they remain loyal. She has never had any trouble with her slaves. Until Anna.

Anna had come as part of a take-it-or-leave-it package deal, and the goods had been too precious to pass up. The girl herself was scatterbrained, tough to break in, klutzy and an all-around bother. After she had damaged goods worth twice her weight in gold, Elsa had one of her slaves—Kai—whip the girl until she deemed the lithe thing had learned her lesson. In all actuality, Kai's whip hadn't even landed seven times before the girl was weeping uncontrollably. Elsa made him whip to eleven for good measure. She hasn't had any more trouble the redhead since.

Anna became Elsa's slave two months ago, and Elsa had her whipped one month ago.

* * *

Anna silently nudges her way into her master's quant little study with a small handful of letters and missives. She keeps her eyes respectfully lowered as she crosses the room and gently sets the new pile of paperwork on the corner of the Snow Queen's desk.

The woman doesn't look up from her parchment; her quill flying across it with a trained finesse.

Anna lets out a silent breath of relief at going unnoticed—not wanting to be in the same room as her owner for longer than necessary—and turns to leave.

"Fetch me some tea."

Anna freezes mid-stride. Her eyes widen in shock—and more than a little fear—and she instantly whips around and bows.

"As you command, master." Anna says, gritting her teeth in a desperate attempt to keep the waver out of her voice. Elsa doesn't pay her any mind, however, and the fiery redhead dutifully takes her cue and leaves. She clenches and unclenches her fists in an attempt to keep them from shaking as she makes her way to the kitchen.

Elsa has never personally laid a hand on her, or ever lashed out at her in malice aside her reaction to her clumsiness that ended in eleven lashes, but it was enough. It was enough to install fear in her heart with an unwavering persistence that barely allows her to keep her composure. Ironically, that same fear is the only reason she hasn't lost face in front of the others.

Anna pushes her way into the kitchen and smiles half-heartedly at the cook, Gerta.

"Our master wants some tea." Anna says. Gerta raises an eyebrow.

"You can call her by name when you're out of her presence, you know." She replies, humour lacing her tone as she pumps water into a pot and hangs it in the hearth above the crackling fire. Anna's lip twitches at the plump woman's words, but she forces herself to smile wider nonetheless.

"I'll bear that in mind."

A frown tugs on Gerta's lips and she glances to the girl—who had been delightful joy until her punishment four weeks ago—and takes in the girl's tense shoulders and strained smile. Anna nearly falters under the scrutiny. Gerta hums thoughtfully and goes back to her task of preparing dinner. A part of Anna hopes that that's the end of it, but she knows the woman too well for that. Shifting uncomfortably, Anna shoves her thumb over her shoulder.

"I have to go help with the laundry, can you deliver the tea when it's done?"

"No."

Anna is already halfway to the door when she hears Gerta's answer, and she stumbles. She turns around with a wide-eyed, baffled expression – but the cook isn't looking at her. Anna takes a moment to straighten and collect herself before awkwardly clearing her throat.

"No?" She questions.

"No." Gerta confirms. Anna's eyebrows furrow in confusion. It's unlike the woman to so bluntly refuse something.

"May I . . . may I ask why?" Anna asks, a little too hesitant and meek for her own liking. Gerta glances up at younger woman, an unreadable expression on her face, before she resumes her current task of making dough.

"Because you have to learn to not fear her." She says. Anna chokes on her own spit.

"W-what?" Anna sputters, barking a forced laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about." Gerta hums.

"No? Funny, the scars on your back tell a different story." The woman murmurs. Anna's heart seizes and bile rises in her throat, but still somehow manages a soft, semi-believable chuckle.

"Slaves get punished all the time, it's not a big deal." Anna gibes, with a good humour that doesn't feel. Gerta doesn't spare her a glance, but her next words are enough to tell Anna that the woman sees right through her.

"It is when it's your first time."

Anna's breath hitches in her throat and the muscles in her back go rigid. How did Gerta know? Sure, there's no marring on Anna's skin aside from the lashing, but that doesn't mean that she wasn't harmed before in a way that didn't show. Hell, for all the cook knows Anna could have been sexually assaulted or something – it certainly wasn't uncommon. As if hearing Anna's unspoken rant, Gerta says:

"You refuse to look at your back in the mirror when you're changing or bathing; the marks of the lashes are the only blemishes on your body; you were cheerful and blissfully naïve when you first came in – the face of one who hasn't seen the crueller side of things; but, most importantly, your bubbly demeanor has been viciously sapped from your bones ever since your punishment." Gerta finally looks up from kneading dough to give Anna a pained glance. "You're scared of Elsa because you know that she has the power to do that to you again, but Anna – you have to let it go. Fearing her will only make your nervousness worse, meaning you _will_ end up doing something that'll force her hand to come down on you once again." Anna swallows the lump in her throat and clenches her fists to keep them from shaking.

"I'm trying." She chokes, with a strangled quality that she wishes wasn't there. "I trying to be the efficient slave she wants me to be but it's so _hard_ because I'm not the person she needs and I'm terrified that she'll realize this and sell me to someone else. What if who she sells me to is an abusive molester, or something? Or what if she decides to keep me for target practice?"

"She wouldn't do that—"

"How do you know?" Anna shouts. She swallows her dread and lowers her voice. "She's so cold and untouchable that I can never tell what she's thinking. Every time she looks at me I worry that she's going to chastise me or tell me that I'm not good enough to keep around – that I only hinder her operation." Gerta's eyes soften and she wipes off her hands on her apron.

"I know because you have been in her base of operations – she wouldn't sell you and risk sensitive information reaching the wrong hands, and she wouldn't beat you in fear of you turning on her and selling her out." Even though the woman's words are meant to be comforting, Anna chokes back a sob.

"What if she decides to kill me?"

The blood drains from Gerta's face and she rushes up to the girl, quickly scooping her up into her arms.

"She won't kill you." Gerta whispers fiercely. Anna grips at the woman's tunic, weeping heavily into the older woman's shoulder. Gerta rubs the girl's back in soothing circles. "Shh – it's okay; you'll be fine." The cook glances up to see Kai standing in the doorway, his face twisted in concern. How much of their conversation had he heard? Gerta takes the opportunity and says; "I'll get Kai to deliver the tea to Elsa, alright?" Anna nods meekly into the older woman's shoulder, her grip tightening in thanks. Kai nods his compliance to Gerta and silently goes about making the tea. It's the least he can do.

* * *

Elsa hears the soft click of her door opening and, without looking up, nods to the corner of her desk.

"Set the tray there." She says, her voice crisp and brokering no room for argument. The tray is obediently set on her desk, but the person delivering it doesn't leave. Elsa tries to ignore them as she continues working out the details of the most recent weapons order, but when she hears them clearing their throat she sighs and leans back in her chair. She cocks an eyebrow when her eyes land on Kai instead of the immature girl she had expected.

"Need something?" Elsa asks, not portraying any hint of surprise. Kai hums a soft affirmative.

"I need to talk to you about Anna." He says. Elsa's eyes narrow, internally bracing herself.

"What'd she do this time?" She clips, with much more bite than she intended. For his part, Kai isn't the least bit fazed.

"It's not so much about what did so much as it is about what _you_ did." He replies. Elsa frowns.

"I don't understand."

Kai sighs softly through his nose. "No, I don't suppose you would." Elsa could have the man whipped for his border-line insubordination, but she's known Kai for too long to think of him as anything less than an equal. So instead, she simply nods in recognition and waits for him to continue. Kai twitches a small smile in response, but it quickly fades as he says; "Anna's scared of you."

Elsa stares Kai, her face void of comprehension. How, exactly, is this a problem? Instead of saying this in so many words, however, she simply says:

"And?"

Kai frowns, and Elsa sees a flash of bewilderment pass through his eyes.

"You don't see this as a problem?" He asks slowly, his words carefully measured. It's Elsa's turn to frown.

"Since it's been helping her do her job better, no – I don't particularly see how it's an issue." Elsa suspects that if Kai wasn't so good at keeping his poise, that he would have slapped himself in the face in exasperation.

"It wouldn't be,"—Kai concedes—"_if_ it hadn't of progressed to the point where she's so terrified of you that the simple thought of being in the same room as you is enough to bring her to tears." Elsa blinks, stunned, and opens her mouth to respond – but Kai isn't finished. "The rest of us serve you diligently and without question because we trust you and have faith that you'll keep to your promises, but that isn't the case with Anna; to her you embody everything she fears. Hell, it's to the point that she's practically afraid _walking wrong_ will summon your ire. As much as a little fear helps control people, too much can come back and bite you in the ass." Elsa pales.

"She's that scared of me?" She asks, her voice soft.

Had she really invoked such fear in the girl? Elsa's only intention was to snap the girl into place, not break her. Why had Elsa not considered the possibility that Anna wouldn't have taken the cue from the others, telling her that Elsa respects them just as long as they respect her? She's not some . . . some _monster_ that you have treat like a fucking deity in order to keep your head on your shoulders. Yet, apparently, that's what seems to be happening.

Kai's eyes soften as he watches Elsa's emotions pass over her face.

"It's not too late to turn things around and change her opinion." Kai says, his voice gentle. Elsa groans and rubs her face with her hands.

"How the hell am I suppose to do that? I'm not exactly the most approachable woman in the world, Kai – how do you know I'm not just going to frighten the girl further?" She asks, bitter. Kai shrugs.

"You could just compliment her." The man suggests. Elsa barks a incredulous laugh.

"Right, I can see it now; 'your work efficiency rate has improved almost sixty-four percent over the past couple weeks. Good job.'"

"Give her a gift."

"I suck at gifts – I'd end up buying a fucking squirrel or an ugly ass bonnet."

"Take her on a tour of the town."

"Because she definitely wants to know where all the shady people hang out, or get groped at a bar or figure out where my clients live." Kai sighs. Elsa gives him a sharp look. "I don't make it a point of going around town for _fun_, Kai – how the hell am I suppose to know where anything interesting is?"

"You ask." The man deadpans. Elsa glowers at him. Kai raises his hands in surrender. "Fine; you win. Why don't you just get her in here and talk to her? You're not bad at conversation—maybe a little awkward when dealing with personal issues—but you're otherwise good at it." Elsa rolls her eyes.

"Such high praise." She drawls. Kai's lips twitch as he tries to suppress his humour. Elsa sighs. "Okay, this is obviously something I need to deal with and actually get right, so how about some advice?" Kai raises an eyebrow.

"I already gave you advice,"—he says—"you just didn't take it." Elsa glares at him and works her jaw. Kai gets the hint and gives an exaggerated, exasperated sigh—earning him an eye twitch from Elsa—and says; "if you intend on speaking with her here, I suggest you have a list of compliments drawn up – and, before you say anything, try to make the compliments normal." Elsa frowns.

"Like, 'you look nice'?" She questions. Kai visibly twitches with the effort to not laugh. Elsa scowls. "I don't understand why this has to be so fucking difficult – I never had to do this with any of my other slaves, and look how well you all turned out!" Kai beams at the unintended compliment, but retains his professional demeanor.

"Most of us had previous owners, though – we could see and feel the difference of your ownership in comparison to the others we've had. You were admittedly strict and distant, but you weren't cruel and you looked after us; the fact that you warmed up to us over time was just an unforeseen bonus. The issue you have to deal with with Anna is the fact that she doesn't have this background – she may know in her head that she could have had much worse, but she doesn't understand it, not really. You're just going to have to work with her."

Elsa mulls over the man's words in her head. How is she suppose to 'work with' someone who doesn't know the difference between her ownership and someone else's? Sure being a slave to Elsa means you have far more room to breathe than with most other owners, but it's definitely not as much as you'd get if you were free; so if Anna had been free up until Elsa bought her . . . goddamn it.

Sighing softly, Elsa waves in the door's general direction, beseeching Kai to leave.

"Bring her to me." Elsa breathes.

* * *

Anna paces outside of Elsa's personal study, wringing her hands together nervously.

When Kai had come to inform her that the arms dealer wanted to see her, Anna had just barely recovered from her melt-down in Gerta's arms. She had collected herself remarkably well, considering, but the familiar constriction of anxiety had fully latched onto her before she had made it to her destination, and now she can't find the courage to knock.

Where was her; 'do now, think later' attitude when she really needed it?

One of the other slaves—Marshmallow? Marshall?—gives her a strange look as he passes, but otherwise says nothing as he continues on his way. It was enough to at least calm her jerky motions and wild, crazy eyes.

"Come on Anna, you got this!" Anna whispers fiercely – giving herself a pep talk. "Just go in there and be totally cool about whatever she has to say, and pretend to be competent. You can do that, right? Right! Because I'm awesome!"

Before she can doubt herself again, Anna turns and lands three crisp knocks on the door.

_Wow, that was a little loud; I probably should have rapped a little lighter. Oh, gods, she doesn't like loud noises, does she? Fuck. Damn it all to—_

"Come in."

Anna's heart leaps into her throat. Elsa doesn't sound angry, did she? No, she sounds pretty average. That's a good sign right?

Momentarily relieved, Anna pushes into the room and shuts the door behind her before bowing respectfully. When several seconds drag on in painful silence—not even filled with the familiar scratch of Elsa's quill—Anna shifts uncomfortably. Still lowered in her bow, Anna clears her throat gently.

"You summoned me?" She asks. Although she doesn't see the other woman, she hears something akin to someone jolting in surprise. Before she can think any more of it, however, she hears:

"Yes – yes I did. Please take a seat."

Bile rises in Anna's throat as she obeys her master's order and takes the proffered chair – the only other one in the room aside from Elsa's. That said woman shifts behind her desk, a frown tugging at her lips.

_Oh gods, she does _not_ look happy._ Anna thinks, her heart sinking to her stomach. She still manages to retain her cool—by some odd stroke of luck—and silently waits for Elsa to start the conversation.

If she'd known at the time that she'd have to wait _two full minutes_ before Elsa so much as clears her throat, Anna would have just asked her owner why she summoned her lowly little slave right off the bat.

Then again, she doesn't really want to get to the why-Elsa's-annoyed-with-her any sooner than she has to.

Eventually—Anna stopped keeping track of time by this point—Elsa rubs her mouth and nods softly – confirming whatever the hell is going through her head.

"I hear you don't like me." She says. Anna chokes on spit. Elsa's eyebrows furrow in thought. "Well, I suppose 'I frighten you' would be a better why of phrasing it." She amends. Not that that wording makes it any better. Anna laughs nervously.

"Frightened? Me? I don't—" she clears her throat awkwardly, trying to lower her pitch back into its normal register. "I don't know want you're talking about – I think you're great. A great ruler. Er, master – because you don't rule— well, technically you practically own the arms dealer business in over three kingdoms, but you're not, like, in control of a town or anything. Uh, well yes— you are, in a sense; you just don't officially own the rights. Although you probably have enough connections to—" Anna drops her face into her hand and groans. "Fucking Heavens – why don't you just smite me and get it over with?" She mutters, viciously rubbing her temples. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, Anna chances a glance at her owner.

Elsa, stock still and staring at her with rounded eyes, blinks. _Blinks_. That's her _only_ reaction.

_Well, goodbye head – it was nice to know you while you were attached to my shoulders._ Anna thinks, resorting to morbid humour to distract herself from the blank expression on her master's face.

Elsa weakly clears her throat. Anna tenses.

"That was, uh . . ." Elsa trails off, a frown tugging at her lips. She briefly glances down at something on her desk before looking back up to Anna. "You have nice eyes?"

Anna would have laughed if shock hadn't unhinged her jaw and left her gaping at the older woman.

_That's certainly . . . wow, okay – didn't expect that._

Realizing her mouth is still hanging open, she snaps it shut with an audible _click_. Something similar to unease flashes in Elsa's eyes, but before she can say anything, Anna finds herself nodding slowly – disbelievingly.

"Okay." She says.

_You're going to have to do better than that, moron._

Anna clears her throat. "I mean thank you. That's very kind." Anna swears she sees some of the tension in the older woman's shoulders fade away, but it's so slight that she could have easily imagined it. Elsa nods, accepting Anna's answer.

"You're welcome." Something Anna can't decipher passes over Elsa's features, and she says; "I wanted to apologize for punishing you."—Anna winces at the reminder—"All the others I bought were already used to having a strict schedule and routine, so all I had to do was explain their duties to them and how I wanted things done and they just sort of fell into place. I tried doing that with you, but it didn't work. I tried other tactics, but when you destroyed some of my merchandise,"—Anna winces again—"I was so frustrated that I resorted to brutality – something I usually save for people who try to do me wrong in business. It was the first time I ever had one of my slaves punished, so I was unaware of how this would have effected you emotionally. Typically I don't care about how people feel, but you live under my roof and under my protection, and I don't want to see you hurt – least of all by me."

A weariness falls over Elsa's face on a scale Anna's never seen before, but before she can address it, Elsa continues with:

"I didn't mean to make you frightened to be in my care, and I'm sorry that I've caused you so much heartache." Elsa's gaze flickers to her desk, and her jaw muscles bulge. Whether it's because she's emotionally effected by her words or she's irate over having to spit them out is beyond Anna, but she finds herself relaxing back into her chair nonetheless.

"So you're not going to kill me?" She finds herself asking, genuine relief fluttering into her voice. Elsa's eyes snap up to the girl, surprise shimmering in those brilliant blue irises.

"What? No! Kill yo— who the hell told you I was going to kill you?" Elsa grits, anger flooding her features and looking very ready to murder the son of a bitch who filled her slave's head with lies. Too bad the culprit _is_ that said slave. Anna clears her throat awkwardly.

"N-no one did. My imagination kinda just . . . got away from me." She says. Elsa stares at her for a long couple of seconds, processing the words.

"You thought I was going to kill you?" Elsa whispers. Anna's eyes widen as she hears the unadulterated anguish in the woman's tone.

_I would applaud you for knowing exactly how to make this situation worse than it strictly needed to be, but I'm afraid you may be daft enough to take it as a compliment._ Anna shakes her head to rid it of the stupid voice.

"No." Anna says firmly – with much more conviction than she actually feels. "Technically I just knew it was a possibility, but I knew it wouldn't actually happen unless I was completely incapable and couldn't hold my tongue."

_Aaand now you're lying to make her feel better. Cool. Well, it's probably better than admitting that you were frightened of her to the point where if she so much as twitched her finger when you were in the same room as her you'd want to burst into tears. . . .Yeah – keep up what you're doing._

Now she needs the approval from her inner voice?

_Fuck me – I need help._ Anna thinks, barely suppressing a sigh.

Elsa's face twists indecisively. "I don't think that make it any better." She says slowly, a frown tugging at her lips. Anna shrugs.

"Maybe not,"—she concedes, before giving Elsa a shy, self-conscious smile—"but you're making up for it." It takes a second for her words to sink in, but when they do the corners of Elsa's lips curl upwards. Anna thinks this is the first time she's seen the woman smile.

"That means you don't want a squirrel, right?" She asks. Anna frowns.

"What?"

Elsa waves her off. "Never mind. Are you feeling any better?" Anna wants to press the arms dealer about the squirrel comment—why the hell would she want a squirrel?—but she somehow manages to contain herself.

"I'm better than I was." Anna allows. "This is sort of out of the blue and I haven't really had time to process it or let it sink in, so I think I may be in shock. Because, really, the last thing I expected when I came in here was for you to be all noble and bashful and apologize for invoking your right to punish me. Don't get me wrong – I'm glad you did, _really_ glad—so thank you—it's just that I never expected it." Anna smiles timidly and rubs the back of her neck. Elsa appraises her for a moment. She hums softly to herself.

"You're surprisingly good company." She murmurs, barely loud enough for Anna to hear. Anna beams, flashing her teeth in a dazzling grin – even though she's pretty sure Elsa's comment wasn't meant for her to hear.

"Good; because you are too. Totally didn't expect it, considering, well, everything – but the fact still remains."

_Way to go and indirectly insult your owner. Congratulations._

Despite the implications of her inner scolding, however, Anna finds herself literally jolting in shock as Elsa barks a surprised laugh. Huh – guess today is the one of many firsts.

"Glad to know I'm still fit for regular conversation." Elsa teases—_teases?_ Fuck, is this woman the same one who bought her?—with a playful spark glistening in her eyes. Anna shrugs.

"At least one of us are. Even if that person just happens to have a thing for squirrels." Anna gibes, silently prodding for an explanation. Elsa raises an eyebrow. Anna's lips twitch into a smile. "It was random and I'm curious. Humour me." It probably isn't the best idea to make a demand of her master—who she's still a little on the fence about—but Elsa doesn't look particularly offended. Well, technically she doesn't really react at all, but that's a good sign. Right?

"Humour you, eh?" Elsa whispers, rubbing her jaw gently as she considers whether or not she should bend to her slave's request. After a moment she hums thoughtfully and leans back in her chair. "Kai mentioned something about getting you a gift to clear the air, but I'm not exactly good at domestic how-do's and said as such by saying I'd probably end up buying you a rodent." Anna fights the urge to laugh, instead asking:

"You were going to buy me a gift?" It's an oddly endearing thought.

A thoughtful, uncertain frown tugs at Elsa's lips. "Not unless you want a puke-green bonnet." Off Anna's look, Elsa continues with; "I never would have gotten you a squirrel – it would have been a pain in the ass to have it jumping, scratching and leaving poop everywhere." Anna raises her hand for Elsa to stop.

"I'm still on the 'puke-green bonnet'." Anna says, trying to hold back her amusement. She fails miserably and begins guffawing loudly. Elsa gives her a sharp look.

"You can drop this 'bad at gifts' thing at any time." She says. Anna catches the warning in the older woman's tone and sobers immediately, gently clearing her throat.

"Of course. Is there anything else you need of me?" She asks, reverting back to the politeness of her position. The change seems to allow Elsa to relax, and all of the older woman's calm collectiveness falls back into place.

"No – that's all I wanted to discuss with you. You may return to your duties."

Anna stands and bows respectively at the shoulders. "As you wish." She says, turning heel and walking for the door. When she has the door halfway open, Elsa's voice halts her.

"Have you had a proper tour of the town, yet?"—The arms dealer asks, sounding slightly nervous—"Because I'm more than willing to bring you the next time I go." Anna smiles softly to herself.

Maybe this situation isn't as bad as she let herself believe.

* * *

**A/N:** I just started _I Don't Knock - I Kick the Door Down_, and if it's liked enough that people want me to continue it, these one-shot updates will be coming slower than usual.

Random note: I'm getting a large upper back tattoo tomorrow (I'll be under the needle for 3-4 hours), so please forgive me if I end up ignoring you guys for a couple days in a blur of pain.

Please feel free to leave prompts.


	5. Time Lord Anna and Joan d'Arc Elsa

Time Lord Anna and Joan of Arc Elsa

Prompt Selected from AO3

(Seriously FFnet people, you have 2800 views to my 251 on AO3 and they prompt and you don't; I don't understand)

**A/N:**

This is a Doctor Who / Frozen / Historical crossover. If you don't know anything about Doctor Who, this one-shot will _really_ confuse you.

**Pre-story / history lesson:** Anna is the Doctor, travelling over time and space in the TARDIS for sightseeing and saving the galaxy time and time again. No matter how long as she's lived (nearly a millennium) or how much she accomplished, however, her mind is always drawn back to her lonely childhood where she would talk to the painting of Joan of Arc. After learning the tragic end to her heroine, Anna expressed her desire to travel to that time and save the French maiden when she became old enough to travel alone. That is when her teachers taught her about Fixed Points – events that have to happen, always will happen and can never be changed. Joan's life and death, they explained, where fixed points in time that could never be altered. It is a painful bit of knowledge Anna has always carried with her.

In the early 1400's, Joan of Arc rose from being a peasant—who could neither read nor write—to being commander of the French forces—though she herself never fought in battle—to take enough French land back from the English to crown Charles VII the King of France. After Charles secured his throne he had no interest in any more conquests, for being king—wealthy and recognised—was all he wanted. Joan continued her advancement on the English despite this, but without the support of the king and reinforcements, she found herself at a disadvantage and eventually captured by the English (in May, 1430). France was allowed to bail Joan if they so pleased, but Charles refused and left Joan to the mercy of the English.

In the trail she had 70 charges laid against her, but it was eventually narrowed to 12. Long story short, Joan was offered a deal for her to live if she signed off on a document that renounced her claim to hearing God and reverted back to wearing women's clothes. She agreed. However, several days later—whether from taunts, threats of rape from the guards or something else, no one knows—she changed back to men's clothes. When members of the court came to confront her about it, she claimed to hearing the voices again and they condemned her to burn at the stake for failing rehabilitation (in May, 1431).

Also, as sited from: news/7-things-you-didnt-know-about-joan-of-arc

"Joan's real name was Jehanne d'Arc, Jehanne Tarc, Jehanne Romée or possibly Jehanne de Vouthon—but she didn't go by any of these. ...Joan referred to herself only as "Jehanne la Pucelle" ("Joan the Maid") and initially testified that she didn't know her last name."

For the sake of simplicity, however, I will stick with Joan d'Arc.

This story starts when Joan is in her cell after being condemned to burn, waiting for someone to take her away to her death.

* * *

Well, Joan supposes, it could have turned out worse. How, exactly, is a mystery on its own, but at least the ultimate decision to be killed instead of live had been her choice. Not that living would have been any more gratifying under the keen, slimy eyes of English pigs.

Sighing softly, Joan shifts to make her cross-legged position against the wall a little more comfortable.

Her cell, though dank and dirty, is a fair enough size. She could to without the constant rank fumes from the waste bucket in the corner that the guards make a very pointed effort of only throwing it out when it's overflowing, but overall it's alright. As alright as being an English prisoner for over a year can be, at any rate.

Joan absently runs a hand along the french braid draped over her left shoulder and the other through her wind-blown bangs—staying that way mainly from dirt and sweat—and purses her lips in discontent. Before getting captured she had always had her hair cut short, but after she was in the hands of the English it was out of her power to keep it that way. She could have asked, if she really wanted to, but she highly doubts that the ones who hate her equally for acting a man's role as much as they do her feats in battle would let her hair be chopped short.

Letting out a miserable groan, Joan tilts her head back until it connects with the uneven stone wall behind her.

"Could be worse." Joan whispers fluently in Middle French. She glances around her cell and into the stone wall passageway outside the bars. "Can't see by how much, though."

All is quiet for a moment, until it's broken by something Joan can only describe as a mechanical whirr that fades in and out. She frowns and glances around— and her heart thuds into full gear as her eyes connect to the faint image of a large blue box in the corner of her cell comes into existence, and slowly starts to solidify.

Joan quickly scurries to the other side of the room and presses her back flush against the stone, her breath coming in heavy, panicked huffs as the image of the box continues to grow stronger and more distinct.

"What sort of witchcraft is this?" Joan whispers, too frightened to recognize the irony in her statement. When the blue box fully solidifies and the whirring stops, Joan swallows audibly. She briefly glances at the characters neatly printed across the front—even though she knows she has no chance of actually reading it—before looking at the design itself. Although she wishes it's shape would give her some hint of the box's origin, she can match nothing in her memory to the object in front of her.

Just when she's about to lose herself in ripping her memory apart, the door of the box opens.

Joan's heart pounds in her ears, her mouth goes dry and her hands grow clammy with sweat.

Before fear can set too far into her chest, however, a redhead with twin braids, teal eyes and a blinding smile jumps out of the foreign blue box and checks out her surroundings. While the girl is distracted, Joan quickly looks her over. The style the girl wears is almost completely unfamiliar, but it's recognizable enough for Joan to peg the woman as human or, at least—Elsa amends as she glances back to the box—human enough.

The shorter woman wears a blue collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, an ice blue tie that's clipped in place with a piece of silver metal with an engraved snowflake on it, formal looking tailored black pants that the collared shirt is half tucked into, and finally some odd but comfortable looking blue and black shoes.

By the time Joan is done her appraisal, she is startled to find the woman staring right at her with her head tilted curiously.

If Joan wasn't scared paralyzed, she'd probably be shitting her pants.

The red haired woman flashes Joan a toothy grin, her eyes dancing with excitement.

Then, much to Joan's surprise, the redhead dips into a bow.

"Pardon me for my entrance, but I honestly doubted I'd be able to get down here and get you out so close to your execution." The woman says, rising from her bow and sending Joan a sympathetic smile.

_She speaks French? She doesn't look French._ Joan thinks, her brows furrowing in confusion. The woman seems to notice, because a frown tugs at her lips.

"You can understand me, can't you?" She asks, before turning to the box and looking it up and down. "Your translator function didn't bust, did it?" She whispers, gently running her hand over the blue wood. Joan's eyebrows furrow further.

"What are you talking about? What 'translator function'? Why are you speaking with that box?"

The woman whips around, a thrilled grin plastered on her lips.

"So you _can_ understand me?" The redhead barks a delighted laugh and pumps a fist into the air. "Ya-hoo!" The woman cheers, grinning from ear as she does some sort of funky dance that makes Joan frown and push herself further into the wall at her back. Suddenly—and far too soon for Joan's liking—the woman stops everything and intensely focuses on the maiden. "You know, I always wondered what happens when I use a word and it's translated into another language—or developing language, in this case—that doesn't have the same word or meaning as the one I just used. I mean, Shakespeare hasn't come along yet so you don't even have a word for basement. There; that look! What did I just say? 'The under part of the house'? Seriously, I want to know."

Joan stares at the woman and blinks very, very slowly.

_What in God's name is she talking about?_

"Uh—"

"Oh, wait,"—the woman interrupts, looking put-out—"I'm just going to hear the exact same thing back no matter what your version of what you hear is, aren't I? Damn TARDIS translator. I swear one of these days I'm going to figure it out, and when I do the universe better be prepared!" Her head tilts when the sounds of approaching footsteps and gruff voices meet her ears. "Oops – guess I was a little too loud. Follow me!" The woman grabs Joan's hand and pulls her towards the blue box. Joan's eyes widen – surely there isn't enough room for—

Joan's mouth drops as she steps inside the box.

_This isn't possible. This _can't_ be possible._

Joan makes to go back outside to recheck the outside size of the box, but the woman—still holding her hand—tugs her back. Joan turns to her. The woman gives her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry – I do typically let people run around the TARDIS and then compare it to the size in here, but there's simply not enough time. Police dude!" The redhead calls, beckoning over a man who was leaning against one of the pillars of the room. The woman lets go of Joan's hand and gestures to her, as if putting her on display. "Do your thing and get out there – the guards are coming and we don't have much time." The man nods and looks Joan over. Within seconds, his appearance starts to shift and change until—

Joan pales.

It's her. That person just turned into _her_.

Before Joan can say anything, however, her double has already exited this . . . _TARDIS_, and the woman who took her has shut and locked the door. The woman glances to the hand she used to drag Joan into the box with a frown as she jogs up to the main rounded . . . _something_ in the middle of the room.

"I'd forgotten how dirty the middle ages are." The woman murmurs, quickly wiping her hand off on a rag before moving to fiddle with the random arrangement of things on the main rounded _something_. Joan is completely out of her league in this environment.

Still frozen in her place near the door, Joan finds the courage somewhere in herself to croak:

"What was that?" Feeling her hands start to shake, she clenches them into fists and turns to the woman, forcing her voice to be stronger than before. "Where are we? What is this place? No, no – wait; first – who are you?" The redhead, continuing with her task, only bothers to spare Joan a split second glance.

"I'll explain everything in a moment. For the time being, hold on!"

Joan didn't know the woman literally meant for her to hold onto something until the whole room lurches and her ears are blasted with the same mechanical whirring she heard with this box appeared in her cell. By the time the shaking and jolting comes to a stop, Joan is on her knees with her arms wrapped around the railing of the walk-way, her entire body shaking.

The redhead skips to the stairs leading to the walk-way Joan is on and sits down on them. She smiles timidly, as if trying her best to show that she's not a threat.

Considering the mind splitting experience Joan has just gone through, she begs to differ.

"You're probably really scared and confused right now." The woman says, her voice soft and reassuring. "So I'm just going to explain a few things, and—if you feel inclined—you can jump in at any point to ask me a question or request clarification, okay?"

Joan, still shaking and gripping the railing as if her life depends on it, can't bring herself to respond. The redhead gestures to herself.

"I'm known as the Doctor. I'm a time traveller, and this box here is known as the TARDIS – which stands for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Yes, the inside _is_ bigger than the outside—it's a signature trait in Time Lord technology—and if you want to figure out _how much _bigger, well, it's sort-of infinite so you would probably get lost if you tried exploring too much." The Doctor shoves her thumb over her shoulder to the place she was just working. "That thing there is the main consol – it can take me anywhere in the universe and to whatever time I please. Granted, it sometimes doesn't exactly listen to me, and sometimes it just takes off without me actually doing anything – but she's a smart cookie, so I trust her."

"What was that sound? When everything shook?" Joan interrupts, her voice strangled. She notes that her white-knuckle hold on the bars holding up the railing is making her arms go numb. The Doctor offers her a gentle smile.

"Apparently I drive with the brakes on." She chuckles and rubs her jaw. "If I really wanted to I could take the brakes off and it'd be a silent landing and takeoff—and probably be much smoother, as well—but, to be honest, I've gotten quite fond of it. Guess that's what happens after I've been hearing it for so long, huh?" The woman smiles, trying to coax Joan out of her paralyzed state. Joan has none of it. The Doctor's smile falters and she clears her throat uneasily. Her eyebrows knit and she wrings her hands together before saying:

"I'm sorry for kidnapping you. Typically I give people a choice as to whether or not they come with me, but between my fondness of driving with the brakes on and my inability to keep my voice down, I felt as though my best opinion was to just take you with me and let you decide once we were safe. It was selfish of me and I completely infringed your rights, but I've also exposed you to a world and technology in which I gave you no prior warning, and for that I can never repentant enough. If—"

"Who was that man who—"—Joan swallows—"—who turned into me?" Joan admits that she's scared shitless—in fact she has never been more terrified in her entire life—but she has to trust that her lord and saviour has put her into this situation for a reason, and that he's still protecting her. The Doctor's eyes widen in horror and she slaps herself upside the head.

"Oh _duh_, how could I be so stupid? Of course that scared the piss out of you." The Doctor says, looking dismayed. She clears her throat in an attempt to compose herself. "For lack of a simpler explanation, that person wasn't exactly a person – it was a bot—as in robot – a mechanical humanoid without consciousness—who was controlled by people like us who shrink themselves to fit inside. Their job is to go through time and space punishing war-crime criminals, but they owe me a couple of favours and I decided to cash one.

"See, your entire life is literally fixed into time and space to the point where there was only that one tiny little window that I slipped through in order to grab you, but even then I couldn't just take you and go, because you _have_ to die on your execution date – it's simply inescapable. But!" The Doctor says as Joan goes to interrupt. Joan frowns but remains silent. The redhead continues. "But technically I was suppose to die a couple years ago in an unavoidable Fixed Point, but I got one of those bot people to take my place and I was able to get out of it unscathed, so I figured the same principle should apply here, as well." The Doctor smiles wearily. "So far it seems to be working, but if this 'ol girl here travels back here at some point with you on board, I can only assume otherwise."

The Doctor's gaze downcasts and she rubs her jaw in thought. "Of course, this all depends on you – because I told you I was going to give you a choice and I mean it. Your first option is for me to travel back to your cell and leave you to be burned at the stake. Your second option is for me to drop you off at another point in history and let you live out the rest of your days in peace. Your third option is to stick with me as my travelling companion and see anywhere you want in whatever time period you want – knowing my track record I'll probably end up dragging you into saving a couple planets or two, but your no stranger to life-on-the-line peril, right?" She laughs awkwardly. "Wow, that was presumptuous of me. Sorry."

Joan slowly loosens her grip on the railing, but still holds the support bars in a light grip as she sits back on her heels. She would be lying if she said she isn't still terrified, but something about this woman makes her . . . more willing to relax.

"Why me?" Joan asks. It seems all she's been doing since this woman showed up is ask questions and, as much as Joan hates it, she gets the feeling she won't stop having them for a very long time.

A delighted yet—to Joan's surprise—affectionate smile spreads across the Doctor's lips.

"As a child I used to spend hours talking to paintings of you. I talked to you so much that, even though you never answered—they were just paintings, after all—I started thinking of you as my best friend." A frown flickers over the woman's lips. "When I finally had enough skill to read the history of your life and time, I was absolutely devastated with how everything ended. I vowed that I would travel to your time and save you, but it was gravely explained to me that you had to live the life you did and you had to die the way you did or else the future would be drastically re-written." A strange, reminiscent look crosses over her features. "I didn't like it. I accepted it, of course—I had no choice, really—but I didn't like it.

"From then on I always lived knowing I couldn't save everybody, but I _wanted_ to save everybody, and I guess following that path eventually lead me to the answer I needed to save you." She flashes Joan an easy smile. "I would say; 'I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out', but that doesn't really apply in this case, does it? I mean, considering it took me almost a thousand years and you're still nineteen, I—" The Doctor's brows furrow. Joan wants to comment on the 'thousand years' remark, but the redhead beats her to words. "Does that make me really creepy, or something?" She questions, looking down to examine herself. "Well, I suppose I've only had this body for a couple years, and I look pretty young. Oh!" Suddenly the Doctor's head snaps up and she points to her hair with both hands. "I'm a redhead!" She exclaims.

. . . What?

"Uh, yeah." Joan says, her tone implying just how crazy the Doctor is sounding.

One moment this woman is completely normal, and the next she's bat shit crazy. Is it always going to be like this?

The Doctor waves her off.

"No, no, no – I _mean_ that I've had practically every hair colour _except_ for red every single time I regenerated, even though I've always wanted it. By the end I was starting to lose hope—because it would really suck if I went through all thirteen of my regenerated bodies without ever getting red hair—but it all worked out in the end. Well, technically I _did_ go through all thirteen of them—considering this is my fourteenth—but that's not really the point of the— are you okay?"

Joan has long since stopped trying to understand anything spewing out the Doctor's mouth, and has opted to nursing the headache now pulsing in her skull instead.

"Fine." Joan grits, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her temples roughly. "Just . . . just stop talking." Joan thinks she hears the Doctor mutter something about 'information overload', but otherwise keeps to Joan's request and remains silent.

Who apparently can't stand silence.

After only a handful of seconds, Joan hears:

"Okay, so let's hold back on your decision – you have all the time in the world, after all." The redhead chuckles at her own joke, but upon seeing that Joan is far from amused, clears her throat gently. "I have clean clothes and towels you can use if you want to take a bath."

_A bath? An _actual_ bath?_

Joan slowly raises her head from her hand and gives the Doctor a double take.

She certainly seems clean and well groomed enough to have an adequate rank for such a luxury.

"If your offering." Joan says slowly, keeping a keen eye on the woman in an attempt to spot any lies. The woman chuckles gently and gives Joan a lazy smile.

"Offering? I must say I insist." She hesitates. "Not that I'm saying that your grimy. Or that you smell bad. Well, you were locked in that cell for who knows how long so technically—" The Doctor cuts herself off with a frown and, after a beat, shoves a thumb over her shoulder. "Why don't I just bring you to the wardrobe so you can pick out something you like?

* * *

The Doctor gave Joan a week before she expected an answer.

To be fair though, it wasn't only for the benefit of the platinum blond, but also for the redhead – because Joan is definitely _not_ what the Time Lord was expecting. The Doctor was prepared for the terror and shock that accompanies dragging a fifteenth century woman into technology galore hub that is the TARDIS, she was prepared for the questions, the confusion and even the possible distain she might receive. The one thing she wasn't prepared for, however—no matter how glaringly obvious it should have been—is Joan's heavily engrained religious beliefs.

Considering Joan did everything in the name of God, the Doctor really shouldn't have been as surprised as she had been.

Goes to show you how oblivious the redhead is.

So while the Doctor answered all of Joan's questions and showed her around to different rooms, it was as much a learning experience for the Time Lord as it was for the medieval woman. It wasn't all bad, though – Joan has grown past her fear enough to laugh at some of the redhead's stupid jokes, and the redhead finds some of Joan's rants obscenely hilarious. Like that one on the second day where the Doctor said Joan could shower or bathe every day if she wanted, and Joan went off about not being worthy enough and wasting perfectly good drinking water. It was certainly a challenge not to laugh when the redhead had to dispute Joan's logic.

To the Doctor's surprise, the only reason she didn't lose the argument was by saying; 'yeah, well, if you're staying on my ship I'd very much prefer if you did. I have a sensitive nose.'

That added, 'stubbornness to the max' to the list of things the Time Lord was unprepared for.

All things considered, though, the two have been making wonderful progress over the past seven days. It's certainly more than the Doctor could have ever hoped for, even if everything is still in the beginning stages of trusting each other enough to test the waters of deeper issues.

The problem is that the Doctor doesn't know if it's enough for Joan to choose life instead of death, and she doesn't have any more time to persuade her.

The Doctor takes a gentle steadying breath, her hands nervously twisting together as she stands outside Joan's door., trying to work up the courage to knock.

_Ever since I was a child I've been wanting to save her, but what if—even after all this—I'm still left incapable of doing that? What if Joan's will believes that history should be as it was and demands to go back? Her life is a Fixed Point, so does that make her way of thinking a fixed point, too? Because she was given the chance to live once before and she didn't take it. Does this mean a part of her soul yearns for her life to end as 'God' intended? Would that mean that, if I don't take her back, that she'd slowly become a shell of the woman she once was because she desires something I refuse to give her?_

Hissing and rubbing her temples, the Doctor raises her free hand and knocks on the door.

There are far too many variables, and she'd kill her brain trying to think of all of them when all she has to do is _ask_.

By some miracle, Joan opens the door before the Doctor can fall back into the chaos of her own thoughts. Joan gives the elder a languid smile, though the redhead can see the strain in it.

"Hello Doctor. Something I can help you with?"

Joan has decided to keep with a more old-fashioned type clothes, and wears a pair of black trousers, an off-white tunic and a noticeable absence of socks and shoes. Her hair is in her regular braid but, without the dirt and sweat to keep her bangs slicked back, they fall in framing strands on either side of her face. The Time Lord had offered the girl hair gel to get back the wind-blown look, but Joan had refused. One too many changes for Joan to wrap her head around all at once, the Doctor presumes.

The redhead forces an apprehensive smile. "Yes, there is. Can I come in?" Joan frowns, but steps aside none the less and opens the door a little wider. The Doctor nods and steps inside, nervously tapping her hands against her thighs as she looks around the room absently – to make it look like she's doing something to give her more time.

Ironic that she scrambling for the one thing she should be in control of.

After a solid minute, Joan clears her throat.

"So, why are yo—"

"Don't leave me." The Doctor blurts, whirling on the girl. Her eyes widen in time with Joan's and she slaps her hand over her mouth. "Wait, no – that's not— I didn't mean— that's not what I came here for." Joan's eyebrows furrow, but she otherwise says nothing. The redhead awkwardly clears her throat. "It's been a week." She says, forcing a weak laugh. "So I came to ask if you've made your decision. If you haven't, that's cool too – I'd be more than happy to wait another week or two for you to make up your mind. I mean, this is a lot to take in, and—" Joan holds up her hand for the Doctor to stop, and her mouth promptly snaps shut.

"I've made my decision." Joan says. The redhead's heart plummets into her stomach.

"Oh." Is all the Time Lord is able to choke. Joan nods softly.

"My decision . . ." Joan pauses. The Doctor's breath catches in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest as she painfully waits for— "is that I don't want to make a decision."

One second. Two seconds.

"Wait, what?" The redhead asks, frowning. Joan shrugs.

"I've been asking for answers ever since I got here, but I haven't been given any. At first I thought it was because God abandoned me, but now I'm thinking . . . what if it's his way of saying that I've done everything I can for him? I mean, you told me yourself that, had you not come along, that I would have been burnt at the stake without doing anything else worth noting. At first I took that as a sign that I had to go back and complete what I started, but then you explained that I never really said or did anything after being condemned, so a likeness of me had just as much power as the real me so long as the people believe that I was the one burning.

"So I've been thinking about if it was my duty to burn as history intends, or if God was rewarding me for my service by giving me a way out. I tried asking which one was correct, but he was painfully silent. This lead me to believe that God is waiting for me to make my own choice – if I want to go back to tie everything together in a neat little bow, or if I want to continue living and helping others and I . . ." Joan falters, a frown tugging at her lips. "I was fighting against my heart and my sense of duty, when all I really want to do is let everything play out and see where it leads me." Joan locks eyes with the Doctor.

"I don't want to make a choice that's the be-all, end-all." She continues, her voice firm and strong. "I want to travel with you to see what you do and see if I'm any good at it or if I'll be any help, but I still want the option of you bringing me back to my cell or dropping me off someplace to simply live. I want to be able to choose whenever I want to choose. Is that alright?"

A smile slowly spreads over the Doctor's lips. "That's more than okay." She breathes, a relieved air taking over her as tears mist her eyes and her heart sours in her chest. "That's more than okay." She repeats, her voice barely above a whisper. Chuckling softly, the Doctor wipes her eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to get all emotional on you – I was just so scared that you'd immediately want your death that I—" The Doctor pauses when she feels a hand lightly brush her forearm, and she looks up, lightly meeting the younger's eyes. Joan smiles gently.

"You gave me the chance that I never would have otherwise had, and all because you chose to speak to a painting of _my_ likeness instead of all the hundreds of others you could have chosen instead. So thank you, Doctor. I owe you my life."

The redhead has no hope of suppressing the tears from burning in her eyes in time. With a very unladylike snuffle, the Doctor pulls Joan into a crushing hug and buries her face into the taller girl's neck. She feels Joan hesitate a moment before gently wrapping her arms around the elder. The Doctor hiccups and chokes a laugh amidst a sob.

"Thank you." She says, tightening her already vice-like grip. "Thank you so much – you have no idea how much this means to me." Joan chuckles softly.

"I think I'm getting a pretty good idea." She says, her tone soothing. The redhead finds herself relaxing into the younger woman's grip. After a long, comfortable silence in each other's arms, the Time Lord chuckles softly.

"I think I got snot all over your tunic." She says. Joan laughs.

"I can assure you that I've had to endure worse filth."

The Doctor hums gently, her head still buried into the crook of Joan's neck. "Still, though – it's nice to be clean."

"Yes." Joan says, her tone immediately perking. "I have to admit that always having access to cleanliness is one of the best perks of the TARDIS." The Doctor snorts and pulls back, barking a laugh.

"Hey now – this old girl has a lot of other neat tricks up her sleeve."

Joan smirks. "Like you?" The Doctor pulls a phony frown.

"You calling me old?" She asks, playful accusation in her tone. Joan nods.

"Aye. Though I must admit you're pretty sprightly for an ancient."

The redhead's jaw drops. "Ex_cuse_ me, Joan, but—" the Time Lord pauses, a thought striking her. It was one that she's contemplated, but hasn't thought about bringing up before, lest she get her hopes up before the maiden decided what she wanted to do. "I need to change your name." The Doctor says. Joan looks vaguely offended, so the redhead continues with; "Not that I don't like your name because I do – it's a very wonderful name, but, well, we can't go around saying your Joan d'Arc, now can we?" Joan's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"But I _am_—"

"Technically yes,"—the Doctor interjects—"but you're also technically suppose to be dead, or not even born yet. If you weren't such a prominent figure in history it really wouldn't have mattered all that much but, as it stands, you are very well known. This means that we can't give your name any weight in the past before your era comes, and too many people would be able to put two and two together in the future." The redhead nervously fiddles with the fabric of her pants. "But you did say yourself that this is something of a new beginning – a new start, so why not celebrate that with a new name?

"You never forget who you were before—I certainly never did after each regeneration—but you'll know that 'Joan' refers to your old life – the life you served God for France, and that your new name will represent your new life – the life that you live for you." The Time Lord shifts and rubs the back of her neck. "I was personally going for 'Elsa Arendelle', but you can choose something else if you don't like it."

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

Joan stares at the Doctor for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Okay." She says, immersed in thought. "I'll take the name Elsa, if you take a name for me." The Doctor frowns.

"Why?"

Joan rubs her jaw thoughtfully. "When the shock of all this wore off and I finally asked you what your real name was, you told me it was connected to a time in your life that you'd rather keep buried." She locks eyes with the Time Lord. "You sacrificed your right to have a name because, somewhere inside, you believed you didn't deserve to have one. Instead you call yourself by a title, hoping beyond all hope that people will see you as the healer that title represents instead of judge you by whatever you did to make you throw away your name." The Doctor's eyes widen and her mouth falls slack. Joan's eyes soften. "Whoever you were, I can tell that you aren't that person anymore.

"So why can't you give yourself the second chance that you fight for so many other people to have? You might think that you got your second beginning as 'the Doctor' and, in a way, I suppose you have – but you weren't living for the sake of a second beginning – you were living in a desperate attempt to appease your past. So even though you weren't living with people calling you by the name you wanted to forget, you were still living in its shadow." Joan's eyes bore so intensely into the Doctor's soul that she feels sweat forming on her forehead, and just when she thinks the maiden is going in for the kill—

Joan suddenly shrugs and leans against the desk behind her.

"Anna." She says. The Time Lord frowns.

"What?"

Joan glances up to her.

"Your new name." She states frankly, with no room for discussion. "I will continue calling you the Doctor until you're ready to take it,"—she adds, much to the Doctor's relief—"but when you are, all you have to do is correct me – and then I'll know."

The redhead stares at Joan with a undecided look crossing over her features. She frowns.

"Why Anna?" She asks. She doesn't have an issue with the name, but it fits so snugly in her heart that she wonders how Joan came up with it. Joan shrugs.

"I felt right." She says, as if that makes all the sense in the world.

Yet, oddly enough, it does.

The Doctor nods ever so slowly. "Okay." She says. Her eyebrows knit together. "So when you call me 'Doctor' and I eventually correct it by saying 'Anna', you'll know that I've given myself a second chance?" She asks. Joan smiles, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Yes." She says. The Time Lord thinks this over for a moment. As much as she wants to appease Joan by outright taking the name now, the redhead knows that she's not ready – she has over a thousand years of memories to sift through and forgive, after all.

The Doctor nods. "I'll let you know, then." She relents, glancing up to meet the younger woman's eyes. Joan nods her approval. The Doctor rubs the back of her neck. "Sooo, I should start calling you Elsa, huh?" Joan smiles.

"Yeah, looks like it." Joan says, pushing off from the desk. "So what now, Doctor?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. The first challenge. The redhead ignores it and grins.

"Well, we have all of time and space to choose from – so why don't you tell me what you want to see?"

* * *

**A/N:** Okay everyone – this was the final sha-bang. I'm going to be posting one last thing onto _I Don't Knock – I Kick the Door Down_ and then I'm going dark. I will still answer PM's and comments, but I'll no longer be posting anything. For those of you who like to re-read stories, don't worry – I won't be pulling my work down.

Oh, and one of you expressed to me your desire to see one of my one-shot worlds made into a series. Obviously I won't be doing it, but if any of you have the urge to pick up one of these ideas feel free to contact me about it (mainly it's just so I know who's doing it and so I can link you in my profile).

Thank you all for taking the time to read my work - it's been a pleasure writing for all of you.


	6. Arms Dealer and Slave, Part 2

Arms Dealer Elsa and Slave Anna, Part 2

**A/N**: Arms Dealer Elsa and Slave Anna was first requested to be turned into a series by Nettlebane. Almost two months later, I got an PM from idwalkthroughhell4u, in which we had extensive conversations over them wanting me to expand it and me saying I didn't have the time. In the end, I promised this user a Part 2 if they could throw enough ideas at me to kick-start my brain into coming up with an outline. Eventually I was able to piece some things together and va-va-voom – you have this.

This is for Nettlebane, idwalkthroughhell4u and everyone else who has expressed their love for my writing.

Enjoy!

PS. I highly suggest all of you go back and read Part 1 to either refresh your memory or because you haven't read it yet.

* * *

"**Pre-story**": Four months have passed since the ending of Part 1. Elsa and Anna have become very close friends during that time, and Anna has worked her way to being Elsa's right hand and most trusted adviser. Within the household Anna has grown to be more of a second leader and has practically took over managing half of Elsa's business, but she is still officially a slave in the eyes of the law and conducts herself in a befitting manner in public eye.

* * *

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you _sure_ you're fine?"

"Anna, leave it alone."

Anna barely bites back the urge to snort, but a smile accidently twitches onto her lips. "You're totally hung over, aren't you?" She asks. Elsa glares.

"Yes, and I wonder who's fault that is."

"Certainly not mine." Anna chortles.

"_You_ were the one in charge of getting me drinks. _You_ were the one who kept grabbing the punch spiked with an absurd amount of alcohol. _You were the one who got me wasted_." Elsa snarls, burying her face in her pillow to hide away from the light streaming in from the window.

"Considering I was busy trying to hide the fact that I was doing business with some of the scum you call customers without attracting attention to myself, I blame it on you. I told you that you should have brought Kai or Gerta with you to handle waiting on you, but nooo you thought it'd be a grand plan for me to do both."

"I was only allowed to bring one slave and you're the only one I have that also controls part of my business. I brought you so I could cover double the ground." Elsa groans, throwing her blankets over her head and rolling into a tight cocoon.

Anna raises an eyebrow. "Then you could have at least not made me run around so damn much."

"Please let me die in peace."

"I swear to God, Elsa – if you don't get up I'm going to get Marshmallow to throw a tub of ice water on you."

A long, pitiful whine imitates from under the covers, and Anna can't help but smile. It feels like a life time ago that she was kicked from her orphanage and into the package deal that landed her in Elsa's care, yet it feels ever longer since her days of fearing this hissing ball of fur. These past few months have been a blessing, and she feels freer than she was when she actually was free.

With an affectionate smile, Anna sits on the edge of the bed and rubs circles on Elsa's back through the covers. The arms dealer's pathetic whine instantly wilts into a sound very similar to a purr. Anna has to bite her lip to keep from doubling over in hysterics.

How she ever feared the platinum blond is a mystery beyond all comprehension.

There's a knock on the door.

"Is our dear lovely master awake yet?" Gerta asks, her voice muffled by the wood. Elsa lets out a disgruntled snort. Anna cracks a grin.

"Unless you count hiding away under the covers and groaning like an old crone on their deathbed than no – she is not awake yet."

"Anna." Elsa scolds in a poor attempt to warn the girl to keep her tongue. The redhead's grin grows ever wider. As if the big softy could ever do anything to enforce her warning.

"Do you want me to get Marshall in there with a bucket of ice water?" Gerta asks.

"What is wrong with you people?" Elsa screeches, before instantly moaning in pain. Anna barks a laugh, which makes Elsa retreat further into her nest of sheets.

"I think I'll be fine without Marshmallow's assistance, but thanks for offering." Anna calls.

"Alright, but don't come complaining to me later if your method doesn't work out the way you plan." Gerta says. Anna listens to the plump woman's retreating footsteps for a moment before turning her attention back to her owner.

Placing her hand on the other side of the lump, Anna leans down until her forehead rests on what she presumes is Elsa's shoulder. Elsa's movements still.

"You're going to have to get up eventually." Anna murmurs.

Elsa is quiet for the longest time, before—with a 'you beat me' sigh—she pokes the top half of her face out of the blankets to give Anna the look of an injured puppy. Instead of getting her desired effect, however—or maybe in spite of it—Anna cracks a grin and ruffles the arms dealer's hair.

"Aw, aren't you adorable?"

Elsa tries her best to glare at the redhead without closing her eyes against the light, but the beautiful sight of Anna's endearing smile melts the older woman's heart. Not wanting to betray herself, Elsa averts her eyes to the window. She winces and a frown tugs heavily on her lips. Despite nearly killing her aching eyeballs, it does prevent the younger woman from seeing the affection pooling on her face.

Just when she thinks her eyes can't take anymore, a soft hand rests itself over them.

"I wouldn't do that until you recover a little more – it won't start hurting any less until you get some food and water into you." Anna says, her voice low and caring. Elsa is suddenly glad the bottom half of her face is still covered; it prevents the redhead from seeing the warm smile that creeps over her lips at the thoughtful gesture. She must still feel the hung over woman's cheeks raise from the action, however, because Elsa can hear the smile in the younger woman's voice as she says; "I'm going to shut the blinds and go tell Gerta to start placing your breakfast at the table."

With that, Anna gets up, shuts the blinds and goes for the door. Before she leaves, she turns back to Elsa and says:

"But if you seriously aren't up in fifteen minutes, I really am going to soak you in freezing water."

* * *

"You never told me who we had to meet today, you know."

Elsa nods absently, her eyes flickering around and picking up the smallest details in this posh neighbourhood. "I know." She says, the beginning of a frown tugging at her lips. The same one she gets when she's absorbed in her thoughts or mulling over a complicated problem.

Part of her realises how obvious she's being. Part of her knows that her actions betray her tense shoulders and worried mind. That part of her tells her to tune it down. The rest of her doesn't give enough of a shit to listen.

She didn't tell Anna who her customer is because she's worried that the younger woman will recognize them and fly into a rage. A small, hidden part of her, however, worries that Anna _won't_ recognize them; _won't_ recognize the house; _won't_ recognize the name.

Considering Anna doesn't seem to be familiar with the neighbourhood, her latter fear might be more plausible than she'd hoped.

The platinum blond can see Anna frown out of the corner of her eye.

If Elsa doesn't change the topic before Anna can open her mouth and question her behaviour, the arms dealer won't have a choice but to spill everything.

Then again, why hasn't she already?

It all started a week or two after Elsa had her; 'I'm a good person, so don't fear me' talk with the slave; although it's hard to imagine the woman as merely a slave upon looking back now. Anyway, it was a late night and Anna had chosen to stay up with her master to tend to her and keep her company while she stayed up doing work. For the most part Elsa just ignored the other woman, but eventually her work began to frustrate her and give her a headache. Anna, ever the one to keep the mood light, started making small talk. Elsa humoured the girl with a few nods and hums, but her attention was snagged when she heard 'Arendale'.

Arendale is an off-branch family of the Arendelle royal line; they're second in line for the throne if anything were ever to come of the main family or their children.

Only the Arendales are dead. They died off almost fifteen years ago.

Anna would have only been four or five at the time of their death, so how did she know them?

Being the person she is, Elsa halted Anna mid-rant without explanation and asked; "What about the Arendales?"

Anna had shrugged and said something along the lines of; "That's how I remember how old I am. I know I was four and a half around the time the Arendales were slaughtered—because that's about the time I was put in the orphanage—so I just keep track of how many years have passed since then and add four on top of it."

She kept going on, but Elsa had stopped listening. Something wasn't right about that information, but she couldn't put her finger on why. She spent the next week researching, and her blood ran cold at what she found.

The Arendales consisted of a mother, father and a four year old daughter on the year of their demise. All were presumed dead, even though the child's body was never found.

She dug around some more and found out that the Sutherlands—an off-branch household of the Southern Isles royal family—took over the Arendale estate and resources and, in doing so, became the back-up inheritors for both the Southern Isles and Arendelle. If that doesn't scream foul play, Elsa isn't sure what does.

In the months following, Elsa has been twisting her influence in a way that'd force the Sutherlands to beckon her for help. It worked. It's made Arendelle and the Southern Isles teeter on the edge of declaring war on each other and they barely hang in a delicate balance, but it worked.

Now the Sutherlands need arms to protect themselves and to fight for the side that pays the highest.

Elsa figures the family is merely itching to kill off one of the families so they can own a throne.

The Sutherland family—consisting of the parents and thirteen sons—is spread across the continents, all probably trying to slither their way up the social latter in their own way. Now, while a lot of them will be returning with drool running down their chin at the news of this conflict, currently there is only one Sutherland present at the estate – Hans.

Hans is the youngest of the family, not much older than Anna, and he has not seen just how nasty the world can get. Don't get her wrong, Elsa's aware of how intelligent the man is – but knowing how to talk circles around a court and getting involved with an arms dealer who provides weapons for over three kingdoms, thirty cities and everything in between is another thing altogether.

Elsa half hopes the man is stupid enough to cross her.

Now, why Elsa hasn't told Anna any of this is a mystery. She's been wanting to, but she got cold feet whenever she tried to bring it up. Oddly enough, she's not sure whether she's more scared of it sparking Anna's memory or it not doing anything at all.

"Elsa?" Anna asks tentatively, a frown carved onto her lips.

Blinking out of her stupor, Elsa glances to Anna. By the look on her face, the blond determines that she'd been glaring at everything in their path unconsciously. Elsa forces a smile—although it turns out as more of a grimace—and says; "I'm fine."

She's far from fine and Anna knows that, but—after a hesitation—the younger woman just nods, accepting it.

Although she's happy she doesn't have to answer, a bitterness overcomes her at Anna adopting her submissive slave role. Sure, that was the deal – do whatever you want so long as you behave appropriately in public, but Elsa hates it more and more as time goes on.

Maybe that's why she's so desperate to restore Anna's rightful position in society.

That translates into actually telling the girl—eventually—and praying she remembers, right?

Looking down the street and seeing how close they are to their destination, Elsa finally gets the courage to speak up and tell the truth. Not the whole truth, but a significant chunk of it.

"We're going to be meeting with Hans Sutherland at the old Arendale estate." Elsa admits. "He and his family are preparing for war because of the turmoil between Arendelle and the Southern Isles. His family has claims to both thrones because of the Arendale family's passing, and they want to have one of them for themselves."

Anna's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I don't understand – what purpose does this information serve in selling them arms?"

"That's just the thing,"—Elsa says, lowing her voice—"I'm not going to be selling them anything." Anna's eyes widen in surprise, but Elsa doesn't give her a chance to respond. "The truth is that the conflict between the two kingdoms is my doing and I'm carefully controlling them through promises of weapons and threats of not delivering; since I'm the only one they can do business with without instigating a brutal retaliation from me, I've got them locked into a carefully designed stalemate."

"This isn't your usual MO." Anna says slowly, suspicion working its way into her features.

"I know." Elsa allows. "It was the only way that I could get the Sutherlands to contact me for weapons. The family is so spread out, see, that there are those who are outside of my range of tight control, so they normally get weapons elsewhere and ship them in hiding or in such small amounts that they fly under my radar. With war brewing, however, I'm the only one they can contact to get the amount of weapons they require without receiving the weight of my wraith."

Anna nods carefully, thoughtfully. "Do you have a personal vendetta against the family?"

"I never used to." Elsa admits, frowning. "I've come across information recently, however, that has drastically changed my opinion of them. Don't get me wrong, I was never overly found of them to begin with—sneaking in weapons I don't control does tend to fester harsh feelings—but I never wanted to rip them from their pedestal and shove their faces into the ground with the heel of my boot before."

Anna's face contorts in confusion, but Elsa doesn't let her get too far into analyzing the situation.

"I don't have time to explain." Elsa whispers as they turn into the long drive of the former Arendale mansion. "The point is that they did something to the Arendales while they were still alive and I either need to know what they did or I need proof that they enacted in foul play. So while I distract Hans, I need you to sneak around and try to find something that can act as solid evidence. I first and foremost want you looking in the most abandoned areas and rooms before you go into places that there's more likelihood of someone walking in on you."

"Why would they hide information like that in a place that isn't guarded? That—"

Running out of time, Elsa cuts Anna off with; "The probability of there being any documents to begin with are low. If there were any, then they'd of probably been destroyed years ago. I need you to look for things that they would have overlooked; paintings, letters, journals – anything you can get your hands on. Oh, and Anna . . ." Elsa gives the younger woman a look that makes her falter in her step.

"No matter what your first impression is of Hans,"—Elsa starts, her voice low with warning—"remember that he was raised with the same mentality of his parents and older siblings. The same ones who probably slaughtered the Arendales."

Anna pales considerably.

Before she has a chance to answer, however, Elsa knocks on the door.

A servant is quick to open the door and lead them to the waiting area. Elsa is supplied with tea and some small snacks while Anna has to stand at attention beside her master's chair, like waiting slaves are suppose to.

Although Elsa is on time, they have to wait a half an hour before their gracious host actually comes out to meet them – it's a tactic used to enforce who's the dominant party. Already use to these sleazy tactics, however, Hans will find himself disappointed by Elsa's lack of reaction.

"Sorry for my untimely behaviour." Hans says as he strides into the room, a practiced smile easing into place. "I would have been out sooner, but I had some important matters to attend to."

Elsa shrugs, deciding not to stand as a way of showing respect. "Business is business." She says, her bored nature easily conveying through her words. Crossing her right ankle over her left knee, she gestures to the little snacks spread out on the table in front of her. "Want some?"

Hans's smile falters just enough for Elsa to catch it, and she internally congratulates herself.

Trying to enforce his dominance in a different way, the man slowly scans Elsa's apparel with a look of displeasure.

"Is it really appropriate for a woman such as yourself to be dressed in such a manner?" He asks, before glancing over at Anna. "It seems even your slave has out classed you."

Elsa raises an eyebrow.

Elsa wears snuggly tailored black breeches, polished leather boots and a fancy royal blue tunic covered by a pristine black jacket with polished gold buttons and royal blue trim. Her hair is in its regular braid with her bangs windblown back.

Anna, on the other hand, wears an amazingly tailored green summer dress with baby blue designs and royal blue trimming. Her hair is done up in a very intricate bun. If not for the girl's current standing position and submissive behaviour and mannerisms telling of a slave, no one would ever know the difference between her and nobility. Which is what Elsa is counting on.

"You mean the fact that my servant is dressed to her gender specifications in a pleasurable way to the man's eye and I am dressed in a fashion that is imposing and threatening?" Elsa asks. Shaking her head, she stands and faces Hans in a way that implies she's getting ready to leave. "I understand that you're some hotshot in the political world, but I am the ultimate power in the underworld.

"If you think you're able to go on without me like you have, then go ahead. Just please take note that I know you've sneaking in the very supplies I operate in under my nose, and I know you'll be doing that ever more if you don't make a deal with me. If that case arises I can lock off the dock. Confiscate your packages or packages going to you. Quarantine your estate. I can even go as far as leaving mangled bodies on your doorstep of people who serve you. If you want to pretend you're bigger than me than go ahead, but never—and I mean _never_—forget who truly has the power in this relationship. Do you understand?"

Hans's plastic smile has long since fled his features, replaced instead by a dark glower and a twitching sneer.

It's then Elsa knows that Hans has never dealt outside the political world – his expression says it all. It tells her that he has long since thought that he was better than the rest of his family—who no doubt all deal with the darkness of Elsa's world—and sought to only deal with one side of the equation. The only reason he's dealing with Elsa at all is probably because he's the only one in the estate and no one else would have been able to get back in time to bargain with her.

"You don't have to like me." Elsa says, her voice steady and calm. "You don't even have to like what I do. You do need understand, however, that I control every weapon and blacksmith within my territory which, trust me, is much bigger than you could ever hope to imagine. So, really, your only two options are to either cooperate with me or fight without weapons. The choice is yours."

Even though it's not much of a choice—especially considering what stake the Sutherlands have on this war—Hans seems to really consider it.

After a long, painfully redundant amount of time, Hans nods.

"Fine." He bites, turning on his heel. "Follow me."

Following the man at a slower pace, Elsa calls over her shoulder; "Anna, please leave me alone. But try, I do beg of you – make yourself useful to someone."

* * *

"'Make yourself useful to someone'." Anna mocks, digging her way through the mansion's dusty old attic nearly half an hour later. "I agreed to help you search for shit— well, technically you volunteered me, but _still_ – I did _not_ sign up for clogging up my lungs with fucking old skin cells."

Anna had been searching room after room in an abandoned looking wing of the mansion for nearly twenty minutes when she came across a closed-off set of stairs. Of course the first thing Anna did when she came across these stairs that obviously no one uses was to climb them and figure out what the lack of fuss was about.

She really, really should have just walked passed them.

Tripping over a box—that was invisible with all dust and scarce lighting—Anna quickly grabs onto anything she can to keep her upright.

What she manages is grabbing a dusty old blanket that comes down with her.

So not only does she face-plant into thirty fucking centimeters of dust, about the same amount decides to fall on top of her.

Coming up coughing and sputtering and desperately swatting dust from her eyes, Anna glares at the blanket and then to the stupid box she tripped over.

Muttering promises of vengeance under her breath, Anna pushes to her feet and does her best to swipe the dust off her. Only succeeding in stirring up a cloud of cough-inducing filth, Anna kneels and decides to see exactly what unfortunate pile of shit got her into this mess.

She rifles through the ledgers and books for a good five minutes before she comes across something worth noting. By itself it doesn't really mean much and, to be honest, Anna can't make much sense out of it – but she labels it as important and stands up with it nonetheless.

Having just about enough with the crammed, dirty place, Anna turns heel—

When her eye catches something.

From the lack of any notable amount of dust, Anna can only assume that this had once been covered by the blanket that had tried to smother her during her fall.

The sense of dreadful familiarity that fills her at the sight is almost enough to make her puke.

With a note of hesitancy, she reads the plaque at the bottom.

It says; 'Arendale Family Portrait'.

She'd heard about the story so many times as a child that she practically has it memorized. She remembers how the two parents were found dead but the child had disappeared and was never seen again. Anna had always fantasized that that child was her, because she was put into the orphanage care so close to the incident.

Upon looking at the young, redheaded child in the photo who looks oh so eerily similar to her, Anna has the sickening feeling that she might have been right.

Then it clicks.

Elsa's odd behaviour over the past few months and her words before entering the house.

Elsa wants to destroy the Sutherlands because she believes they killed Anna's family and tossed her away. All she needed was evidence.

The question that's really bugging Anna is why. _Why_ would Elsa go through all this trouble for her? There were plenty of other ways she could have handled this, but she chose to do something completely out of character and drastic. She knows that the arms dealer has been warming up to her lately and has become notably fond of her, but not fond enough to go this far.

She's missing something – she _knows_ she's missing something, but for one frightening moment, Anna doesn't care. She just found out that it is very likely that the Sutherlands killed her parents or hired someone else to, and then just left her to rot. Then Elsa found out, and didn't even tell her when she made Anna look for evidence that could possibly lead to the girl finally knowing where she came from.

Her rational mind tells her that the Sutherlands would have killed her, so—logically—she had to of escaped somehow. Her rational side also tells her that Elsa was trying to protect her from getting her hope worked up for nothing, but nothing could quell the fiery hatred that swells in her stomach for the pair of them.

With her chest rising and falling in angry huffs, Anna storms out of the room, hell bent for Hans's office.

* * *

Elsa sighs. "Do you take me for a fool, Hans?" She asks, once again curbing any progress the two could have been making.

Elsa has been stalling and talking in circles for almost forty-five minutes. Honestly she thought it would have been harder than it this, but Hans—only being used to dealing with politicians—is out of his league and making wagers for a completely different ballpark. He was definitely trying, but he was undoubtedly stupid in the business affairs of the underworld.

"You deal with kingdoms!" Hans finally grinds out, frustration getting the better of him. "If you deal with kingdoms you have to work in legitimate business ventures or else they would have ousted you by now! Why, for the life of you, can't you extend the same courtesy to me?"

"Firstly, I _don't_ work in legitimate business with the crown. Any crown. The fact is that they _have_ to deal with me because I control every weapon and blacksmith within their borders. They've tried getting rid of me,"—Elsa says, shrugging—"but it's hard to do that to someone who can squeeze the life out of your economy without so much as raising a hand. Don't get me wrong – it'd be nice to have official documentation proving what is already true and everyone already knows, but it's hardly a necessity. As long as I'm in control, I don't really care what official scribbles say."

Hans grinds his teeth together. Elsa, wanting to aggravate him more, merely raises an eyebrow.

"I think it would be beneficial for me to wait until another member of your family can arrange to see me, seeing as you haven't an inkling of the water you're treading in." She says, as if to a child.

"No!" Hans shouts, slamming his hand down on his desk. "I'm going to make this deal, and you're going to be walking out of here with an order of weapons. Do you understand me?"

Elsa smirks. She has him now.

She opens her mouth to make the kill—

Only to be interrupted by the large double doors of the study flying open.

Whirling in her chair, Elsa watches in perplexed horror as Anna—covered in so much dust she's practically gray—stomps into the room, slams a random ledger on the desk and points an accusing finger at the man behind it.

"Your family slaughtered my parents!" She accuses. Elsa's eyes bulge.

While she's happy Anna remembers, the why she went about exposing it was less than satisfactory. Glancing at the ledger—and knowing better than to put herself in Anna's line of fire—Elsa picks it up and starts skimming through it. Is this what Anna found to make her realise the truth?

"What is the meaning of this?" Hans asks, raising his voice in indignation. He turns his attention to the preoccupied arms dealer. "Tell your slave to bite her tongue!"

"Hey, I'm right here you slimy motherfucker!" Anna barks, her teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

"I could have you hung for speaking to me this way!" Hans shouts, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Unless you want Elsa to ruin your family, drain your resources and torture you and your family to death, I think it'd be a pretty fucking stupid plan." Anna growls, her bloodshot eyes narrowing in unadulterated loathing.

Unseen by both of them, Elsa—her eyes still fixated on the ledger in her hand—slowly stands with mixed feelings warring across her face.

"You can't tell me what to do, you filthy slave." Hans snarls, his figurative hackles raising.

"You killed the Arendales!" Anna shouts. She barely registers the look of fearful shock that flashes over the man's face as she continues with; "So, considering I should be in the seat your dirty fucking ass has been sitting in for God knows how many years, I think I have more right than anyone to tell you what to do!"

"Ledgers don't lie." Elsa murmurs, breaking the hateful exchange. Anna glares at her.

"This is not the fucking time to be lecturing us about numbers." She spits.

Elsa looks up from the account book and turns it to Anna, pointing out a specific section. "Look at that and tell me what you see."

Anna throws up her hands in aspiration. "Numbers! Letters and numbers!"

"Look at it carefully." Elsa says in a slow, calming voice. Anna grits her teeth to keep from biting back a response, and grudgingly looks at the numbers.

"Would you care to tell me what all this is about?" Hans asks, irritation grating his tone in an unflattering way.

"Shh." Elsa scolds, her eyes trained on Anna's expressions, waiting for realization.

Realization never really hits the girl, but a look of strange puzzlement takes over her features.

"It doesn't balance." She says, frowning and taking the ledger into her hands. "I mean it balances – the final number _is_ correct, but the numbers above have been altered in a way that doesn't make any sense. This one here, for example – why would anyone in their right mind pay a thousand slivers for a half a dozen plain wooden chests? Why would the Arendales even _want_ six plain ass wooden chests to begin with? And this – there's no way they bought that many precious stones for only twenty silvers."

"Look at the sellers name that reoccurs the most." Elsa says, gently prodding the younger woman in the right direction.

Anna reads over the names and frowns when she finds the one that shows up more frequently than the rest. "TGS. Who the hell is TGS?"

Well, that would explain why the redhead didn't understand the significance.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Elsa nods her head towards Hans. "They're his father's initials. If you keep flipping through the pages you'll find there are a lot of transactions between them and that only those numbers involving TGS have been changed. If you start thinking about it as a message, you can start to understand what your father is trying to say based on the product and the altered amount. I can't quite say what it is without extensive examination, but even an idiot can tell that it was prompted by something hostile being aimed at them from the Sutherlands."

Hans barks a bitter, but superior laugh. "You have no concrete proof! Throwing false accusations around will get you nowhere."

Anna glowers at the man. "I think the portrait of a four year old me in the attic and your expression when I accused your family of my parents murder was enough."

Elsa raises her hand to halt the two from getting into another squabble. "Hans." She says slowly, grabbing his attention. "I have absolutely no intention of going to the authorities with this. In fact, I don't plan on using any legal means whatsoever except for getting a judge to formally recognize Anna as the Arendales only child. In fact, I don't even plan on leaving this house. You haven't noticed, but I've had this property under quarantine since an hour before my arrival."

Hans whips around and examines the back yard through the window. Elsa laughs.

"Do you think I'd hire people who would be spotted so easily?"

Hans growls and turns back around, glaring at the arms dealer. "I don't believe you."

"Anna,"—Elsa instructs, never removing her eyes from Hans's—"please go outside and walk to the front gate. Kristoff should be standing there. Tell him to move in the stand-by security force and take over the mansion."

"You can't do that!" Hans shouts, looking ready to fight or bolt. Possibly both.

Elsa tilts her head at the sentiment, as if it confuses her. "I can make kingdoms bow in submission yet I can't take over a single estate?" She asks, humming in an exaggerated show of thought. "I don't quite think that's right."

Hans launches himself over the desk, his hands aiming for Elsa's neck. Elsa easily side-steps and slams her elbow into the back of his neck. He drops like sack of potatoes, out cold.

Standing over him, Elsa allows herself an amused chuckle. "You think I deal in this deep dark world without knowing how to defend myself? Ha! What an idiot." Glancing up from the body, Elsa finds her eyes locked with Anna's eerily calm gaze. Clearing her throat, Elsa awkwardly rubs the back of her neck. "Sooo . . . I'm sorry for not telling you about all this sooner. I wanted to, I did, but I didn't want to get you all riled up only to tell you later that I was wrong. I didn't want to tell you without solid proof, and I know that's selfish of me but I . . . I didn't want to upset you."

Anna is silent for a long time, her eyes merely searching Elsa's face. For what the platinum blond couldn't hope to guess, but still it continued.

Until, eventually, Anna asks:

"Why?"

Elsa jolts, startled. "Why? Why what? Why I didn't tell you? If my previous expl—"

"No." Anna says, her voice soft. Too soft. It freaks Elsa out. "Why did you go through all the trouble in doing all of this? You didn't have to, let alone by the methods you used, but you did. I want to know why."

Clearing her throat, Elsa awkwardly shifts on her feet. "It . . . it might have been for selfish reasons." She admits, her face flushing. When Anna only waits for the older woman to continue, Elsa rubs her arm subconsciously. "I've gotten attached to you in a way that makes it hard to see you as a slave. I wanted to give you freedom papers, but where would you go? You had no name, no heritage – nothing to fall back on. It meant you'd be free, but you'd still be forced to stay with me. The only perk would be that you didn't have to act like a slave in public.

"I didn't want that, though." Elsa admits, her eyes flickering to the book case on the far wall. "I wanted you to have the choice to leave and be whatever you wanted to be. When I figured out that this might be your birthright I knew I had to prove it because . . . because you deserve it – you deserve to know what happened; you deserve to inherit what your parents left you. You deserve to have the chance to be whomever you want to be. This,"—Elsa gestures to the room around her—"_this_ was that chance – it was everything I could never give you."

Finally looking back into Anna's eyes, Elsa smiles weakly. "I wanted to give you the chance to be happy."

Anna's eyes has a calculating aspect to them that Elsa has never seen before, and it makes her heart run cold at the sight. A cold weight presses against her heart.

Was this not what Anna wanted?

Did she make the girl drudge up buried memories she never wanted to remember?

Is she mad that, instead of giving her the choice, Elsa decided for her?

Before the cold dread could spread to her limbs, Anna nods slowly. It's not an accepting nod, but it doesn't contain a note of rejection, either.

"I understand that,"—the redhead allows—"but someone who is merely fond of another doesn't coax two kingdoms into near war in order to restore another's heritage. So, I ask you again; why did you do this for me?"

Something in Elsa knows that she only has one chance to get this answer right. Something in her knows exactly what she needs to say. Something in her knows it's exactly what Anna needs to hear.

But something in Elsa doesn't want to admit it.

Her heart constricting, Elsa grabs the desk for support and lets out a long, controlled breath. Tears mist in her eyes.

When was the last time Elsa let someone in, then give them power over her by letting them know?

Not for a long, long time.

Elsa continues focusing on her breathing, but it slowly becomes more and more uneven. Her lip trembles. Her arms shake. Her legs go weak.

She doesn't know her legs collapsed out from under her until she realises Anna's arms are wrapped around her, holding her up. The younger girl slowly lowers the elder to the ground, where she continues to quake.

With her chest heaving and anxiety clenching at the back of her neck, Elsa airs; "It's because I love you." A sob rips through her, taking both women by surprise. "I didn't mean to, but I fell in love with you." She admits, stronger than before.

"Oh, Elsa." Anna breathes, her eyes finally softening. She guides the platinum blond to the crook of her neck. Elsa hacks and pulls away, viciously wiping at her nose and mouth.

"I think I just inhaled a family of dust bunnies." She confides, coughing uncontrollably.

Cackling loudly, Anna pats Elsa's shoulder reassuringly. When the fit finally subsides, Anna says:

"After I gain legal right over this property, I think I'll get Gerta, Kai and the others over here to help me out."

Elsa regards the younger woman in confusion. "But they're my slaves."

Anna smiles, ignoring the arms dealer. "I think it'd best to use your current home as an outpost for your over-viewers. It can be a goods checking station and a distribution post. I mean, what's the point in staying there when you have a much better place to stay?"

A frown slowly pulls at Elsa's lips. "I . . . I don't think I follow."

Her smile broadening, Anna lays a hand on the side of Elsa's neck. "I want to be happy, Elsa." The redhead whispers, resting her forehead against the elder's. "And I can't be happy without you."

Elsa's eyes light up. "Does that mean—"

"Yes." Anna chuckles, grinning. "I love you, too."

Without ceremony, Elsa pulls Anna the rest of the way and crashes their lips together. Breathing out a contented sigh, Elsa molds her lips together with Anna's. She can feel the redhead's smile, but it doesn't stop her from reciprocating with affectionate vigor.

Pulling away with a chuckle, Anna says; "I'm going to go get Kristoff. You start getting Arendelle and the Southern Isles to be nicer to each other again, okay?"

Elsa grins. "Aye aye, partner."

Anna rolls her eyes, but there's a noticeable hint of delight in them as she pushes to her feet and makes her way to the door.

As the girl just gets out of sight, Elsa calls; "If you could get the dust off you, that'd be great too!"

* * *

Five years later.

"Hey Elsa, can you pay the main blacksmith in the town over a visit? I'm being understanding and nice, but he's taking advantage of it. Now, I promised him that I would keep him from harm so long as he does what I say, but could you or your goons make a 'unordered' visit to keep the man in line? Don't say anything if you agree – it's better if I don't know."

Elsa twitches a smile from her lounged position on the couch in Anna's office—formally Hans's office—and continues reading through the documents in her hands.

Over the past five years Anna has taken over the front of Elsa's arms dealing business and deals in honest, legitimate contracts that keep up good relations with all of her partners. Elsa, on the other hand, has taken over the underhanded and dirty network connections of the business. Part of her job includes slinking around 'behind Anna's back' to enforce unspoken laws and agreements if their connections start getting too comfortable.

Oddly enough, it's actually a fitting arrangement that suits the pair just fine.

"Did you sign the contract with Arendelle yet?" Elsa asks, changing the topic. Anna grunts and waves the bulky thing in the air.

"Look at this." She says, gesturing to the pages with her free hand. "Who the fuck writes _thirty-two_ goddamn pages for an arms dealer contract?" She asks, slamming the thing back onto her desk. "It'll take me forever to just read through it, let alone the next two scans where I have to check for any underhanded fine print. I swear, the next time I see Agdar I'm going to bitch slap him in the face with this fucking thing."

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, Elsa clears her throat. "Please don't." She says, but she's not quite able to keep her amusement from her words. Anna raises an eyebrow and glances over to the older girl, who coughs repeatedly in an attempt to keep the smile from her face.

"Really?" Anna drawls, resting her cheek in her hand. "Because, from where I sit, it kind-of sounds like that's exactly what you want me to do."

Clearing her throat more violently this time, Elsa carefully sets her underground network report onto the coffee table and pushes up into a seated position. "I would never condone such a thing."

Anna's lips twitch upward into an amused smirk. "Considering your specialty in this partnership, shouldn't that sentiment be the expressed the other way around?"

Elsa snorts in playful indignation. "I may go around punching people in the face, but even I'm not stupid enough to slam a heavy-ass document into a king's precious cheekbone." She chortles. "No matter how amusing it'd be to watch."

She sees Anna try to hold back a laugh, but soon the woman is bent over her desk and clutching her stomach as she hoots and roars. Elsa grins at the sight and joins her. The two only stop when their abdomens hurt too much to continue. Or it could have been when they heard someone knocking on the door. Maybe it was both.

"Come in." Anna calls, still trying to get her residual high-pitched wheezing to dissipate. The doors are pushed open to reveal Kai. Anna's eyes light up immediately.

Even though all of Elsa's slaves were transferred into Anna's mansion and, as a result, into her care, she never stopped treating them the way she had when she was shackled alongside them. She'd even taken to calling them 'staff' long before she'd even thought of drawing up their freedom documents, which was given to them three years ago. To Elsa's amazement, no one on staff even considered waltzing out the door afterwards – they just thanked the pair of them and continued on with their jobs.

The only difference for before, really, is that now the staff is actually being paid for their services.

"Kai!" Anna cheers, grinning from ear to ear. Kai can't stop himself from smiling in return. Anna leans forward—even though it does little good with the table in front of her—and whispers; "Please save me from the tyranny of documents. Distract the oppressive ogre—"

"Hey!"

"—while I make a run for it."

"I'm not forcing you to stay here and read that fucking thing – if you want to leave go right ahead. I won't stop you." Elsa huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and dramatically flinging her head to the side.

Kai glances between the two women and tries his best not to laugh, but the humour still shines through his passive façade. "I'm afraid neither of you will be able to leave the premises right now." He says, breaking the playful moment.

Elsa and Anna both frown and share a look. After a couple seconds of silent conversation, Anna says:

"Are we in trouble with authorities?" Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "No, that doesn't make any sense – we hold too much power for anyone to try anything stupid against us."

"Could be an out-of-town hired gang from our rival arms dealers. They've been trying to weasel into our territory sense before I even met you." Elsa suggests.

Anna shakes her head. "We're far too cemented, dependable and relied upon for anyone to turn to an outside source for weapons. Hell, we control the blacksmiths from Arendelle all the way to the Southern Isles – if anyone tried to upset that, especially with your protection grid, they'd be slaughtered before they could find an barn to squat in."

"If I may,"—Kai cuts in—"if you'd simply hear me out, then you'll know your answer." Elsa and Anna share a sheepish expression.

"Sorry." Anna murmurs.

Elsa clears her throat. "So what's going on?" She asks, pushing her way through the awkwardness.

Kai nods and says; "King Agdar of Arendelle has just pulled into the estate and is being shown to a room as a courtesy, despite arriving unannounced."

For the longest time the women just stare at the man with blank expressions. Then, slowly, Elsa's face contorts into confusion.

"It's takes three months to travel here by land and six weeks to travel here if you sail and then take a carriage. Why in the seven hells would he make a trip like that and not announce himself?"

A frown mars Anna's lips. "Perhaps he was on his way to a diplomatic visit to Corona or the Southern Isles? Maybe even Weselton, if he's unlucky."

"If that's the case, then why isn't Idun with him?"

"Probably because he left her in charge of the kingdom – you know how the both of them only leave the council in charge if they truly have to. I don't blame him – those old men are a sack of bitter old bones. It'd probably be better if they croak."

"I could arrange that."

"Please don't."

"Funny how it sounds like that's exactly what you want me to do."

"I admit it'd be a lot easier on our business with Arendelle, but I'd rather not get on the wrong side of the sovereign."

"You mean the exact same one you wanted to bitch slap with that huge-ass document your still pouring over?"

Anna glares at the platinum blond, but Elsa only grins cheekily. Rolling her eyes, Anna turns back to Kai. "Is he being shown to my office?" She asks.

"We were waiting on your word." Kai says. "Although he might be in the waiting room already. Do you want me to get him?"

Anna nods. "Please."

When Kai leaves, Elsa nods to the contract still sitting on Anna's desk. "You might want to hide that. Wouldn't wanting him pressuring or guilting you into signing it, now would you?"

Anna quickly complies and shoves the thing into one of the drawers in her desk. She is just shutting it when the unexpected guest is announced.

"King Agdar of Arendelle." Kai says. Agdar, dressed in almost stupidly fine clothes, strides into the room. Anna nods to Kai and he obediently shuts the doors.

Smiling, Anna stands and bows at the shoulders. "Your majesty, what a pleasant surprise."

Agdar glances over Anna's attire and raises an eyebrow.

Unlike the usual fine dresses he's seen the redhead in, she is currently donning worn out black breeches, tucked into leather boots, and an off-white tunic. Anna flushes red when she realises.

Before the girl can turn into a blubbering embarrassed mess, Elsa stands from the couch and makes herself known.

"Your majesty." She addresses, bowing at the shoulders. Although her attire isn't much better than Anna's—form fitting trousers tucked into scuffed leather boots and a loose royal blue tunic with the sleeves rolled up—she acts as if it were nothing of notable concern. "I apologise for our state of dress, but we strove to meet with you immediately. It is unlike you to make a visit unannounced, and we determined your purpose here to be of the upmost importance. I hope you will look over this minor aspect of our outfits in light of our intentions."

Agdar stares at the woman for a long couple of seconds before a smile—barely a twitch of the lips—forms on his face. "On top of your game as always, I see." He says. "It's sometimes hard to believe you aren't noble born."

Elsa snorts. "I'll leave that to her."—She gestures to Anna—"I like my job too much to give it up for petty verbal squabbling." Anna raises an eyebrow.

"Isn't that what we do? Like, _all the time?_ Why do you stick around with me, then?"

"That's different." Elsa says, passing her off with a grin. "Bickering with you is fun."

"I know so many situations where I beg to differ."

Elsa barks a laugh. "That's only because you're afraid to admit you're in love with a insensitive, socially inept weirdo like me in front of royalty." Elsa glances to Agdar in surprise, acting—quite badly—that this is her first time seeing him. "My, I think I might have ousted you." Anna slaps herself in the face.

Despite Agdar's face remaining passive, a shine of delight sparks in his eyes at the easy back-and-forth the two are prone to having.

These women are the only two who ever deal with him like he's a human being instead of the ruler of a kingdom. He admits it can get terribly annoying at times, but the two are always keen enough to pull punches when they see him getting irritated. Unlike all the other people he has the displeasure of dealing with, these two always have a way of making business just a little more interesting and, oddly enough, refreshing.

Although he would never admit it out loud, these two have come to mean a lot to him over the past five years.

They way they act around him, however, gives him the feeling that they already know.

"So what's your business here?" Anna asks, finally getting down to business. "If it's about the contract, I still having finished going over it yet."

"It's not that we don't trust you,"—Elsa cuts in—"we just don't trust the old farts in your council." Anna glares at the blond. Elsa shrugs. Agdar, no matter how much he agrees, decides it best to pretend he didn't hear anything.

"I would first like to apologise for the unscheduled visit, but I have news to give you that I think you'd both appreciate more in person."

Anna frowns. "You traveled almost two months to deliver news? It must be something unprecedented."

Agdar booms a deep chested laugh, startling the two women. "Heavens no! I admit the news is revolutionary, but I would never travel here for that sole purpose. I was on my way to Corona, and since your location is only a couple days journey out of the way, I decided to make a pit stop. Gives the crew time to restock the ship and step on solid land, as well, so it was a positive detour no matter how you look at it."

Elsa tilts her head curiously. Anna is half tempted to ruffle the girl's hair like you would a dog, but decides better than breaking the mood of the conversation.

"So . . . what's so important that you needed to tell us in person?" Elsa asks, her interest peaking. Anna can almost see the woman's imaginary dog ears standing at erect attention, keen on absorbing all sound. It's almost enough to make her grin, but she somehow manages to contain the urge.

A broad, warm smile breaks over the King's regal mask. "Because of your combined efforts of ousting the Sutherlands from inheriting any throne and stabilizing relations between my kingdom and the Southern Isles,"—Elsa wants to note that she's the reason the conflict even existed and that it only stopped when she threatened to strangle their economies, but she manages to contain herself—"I wanted to do my part in thanking you.

"The typical methods weren't capable of expressing the magnitude of my gratitude, so I've been working diligently to find something else of equal value." Agdar pauses for effect, his smile broadening. "After so many interactions with you two it finally clicked, and I've been working meticulously the past two and a half years to pass it through the council."

Elsa and Anna share a confused look, both neither interrupt the sovereign.

Agdar scans the two women—whatever for they couldn't say—until finally he says; "Your affection for each other inspired me, especially the openness in which you present it. It was never a question, even upon first meeting, that you two were together. I thought your fondness for each other might fade, but I was contentedly proven wrong time and time again.

"Therefore, I have passed a law in Arendelle that if two women fatefully serve the crown and have been openly together for a number of years, the ruling monarch is allowed to wed them."

One second. Two seconds.

Anna raises her hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.

Three seconds. Four seconds.

Elsa gingerly retakes her seat on the sofa.

"The council didn't like it very much." Agdar continues, filling the silence. "In fact they fought it tooth and nail, but they eventually relented. Mainly because they realised not many women would be willing to risk their safety by being open like the law requires, but it was a victory nonetheless. A step in the right direction, at any rate."

When the pair—still recovering from shock—refuse to speak, Agdar shrugs. "Granted, your marriage would only be rightfully recognised in Arendelle, but even that is even better than nowhere, right?"

Again, he is met with silence.

He shifts uneasily and opens his mouth to ask for their opinion, when he was abruptly cut off.

"Gerta!" Elsa cries, jumping to her feet and flying out of the room. With her volume and echo, he can still hear her shout; "Gerta! I need a ring!"

That seems to snap Anna out of it, because she too is soon flying around her desk growling; "Oh no you don't. There's no way in hell I'm going to let you give me one first." As she sprints out of the room, she screams; "Kai! I need a ring, and I need it now!"

Agdar stands rooted in place, blinking.

Slowly, an affectionate smile spreads over his lips.

Yes; this was the best gift he could have ever given them, and he is proud that he'll be the one to bless them into official matrimony.

He hears someone being tackled to the ground, a couple grunts of pain, and Anna shouting:

"Don't you dare give her that ring, Gerta! I'm going to be the one to ask the question even if it fucking kills me! _Kai! _Get me that stupid ring_ now!_ Gerta, _don't you dare_."

Somehow, the violent spew only succeeds in making Agdar's smile widen.

Yes, this was definitely the right way to go.

* * *

**A/N:** Right, so maybe this time I can suppress my niceness and actually stay gone this time.

Anyway, I am notified whenever anyone PM's me, so I can guarantee that I will answer you if you decide to send a message my way. If you just want to let me know something without expecting a response, feel free to leave a comment.

As I've said before – I love you guys. After all, I would have never of written this if some of you hadn't of been so persistent in wanting it.

**PS.** Hans was tortured and is currently either dead or rotting in prison. That's my wrap up of that dude's story line.


End file.
